


The Strange Tale of Beatnik Island

by DWaM



Category: Umineko no Naku Koro ni | When the Seagulls Cry
Genre: F/M, Gen, Meta, Metafiction, Murder, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Past Lives, Snow, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 22,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29488101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DWaM/pseuds/DWaM
Summary: Years after it was lost by the niche audience of mystery enthusiasts, an unfinished translation of 'The Strange Tale of Beatnik Island', written by the elusive Itouikukuro, finally resurfaces. It is now posted here for your reading pleasure. This story of unease, deceit and seemingly impossible serial murders is certainly one that will haunt you by the end.NOTE: This story does contain spoilers for all of Umineko, regardless of the premise. It is nigh incomprehensible without revelations made in EP8.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> Cover art by selkie, who you can find on Twitter as @selkie_lynn!

I will attempt to keep this brief. While the history of this thing is interesting in its own right, a lot of it comes down to word of mouth, which I’m not comfortable dwelling on. Still, some of the context is definitely required here, if for no other reason than to pre-emptively kill some of the more obvious questions.

In early 2003, a post was made on the now-defunct Kurokubi-Nyaa, a Japanese message board primarily focused around discussing detective fiction. The author of the post, going by the handle of Itouikukuro, had decided to share a novel they themselves had written. They explained it was shopped around to different publishers without much success, in spite of their conviction that the novel was the best they had ever written. Without much to lose, they decided to turn to the public to judge for themselves.

I am to understand the responses were mixed. Some praised the characters and the overall story, while others were quick to point out the unbelievability of the mysteries and the reasoning required to solve them.

The novel itself was, of course, in Japanese. Itouikukuro had seemingly written the whole thing by hand, so the post itself was a document consisting of 300-something scanned pages. While it’s near-impossible to really know the amount of attention it ultimately got, or if it ever spread beyond Kurokubi, the one thing that you can be sure of is that nobody in the western world was aware of its existence. The internet was still in its infancy, and even Japanese majors probably had better things to do than roam around hubs for detective fiction. (Mystery was just as much of a niche then as it is now, unfortunately.)

That was, until 2013, when the story re-surfaced on Tumblr, of all places.

A user by the name of Neya11 claimed that they had a Japanese friend who still had the original scans in their possession, in spite of the message board being long-gone. Neya looked through the manuscript, liked it, and decided to take a shot at translating it. They began posting on their Tumblr blog. Most information I’ve just outlined for you apparently comes from it.

That is how ‘The Strange Tale of Beatnik Island’ saw the light of day in the English-speaking word.

The title is undeniably strange for a Japanese novel. It’s very likely that the title was altered by Neya in the process of translating it. Looking at the translation itself, it’s not hard to figure out the intentions behind the change – Neya worked very hard to make the thing as readable to a non-Japanese audience as possible. The use of honorifics appears to have been removed, characters make references to American culture (likely as a means of replacing whatever Japanese counterpart was used in that part of the text), and what few brand names are mentioned in it are definitely not of Japanese origins.

I don’t know how well that practice is frowned upon these days, and I don’t care – I’m just telling you what Neya did. Don’t shoot the messenger.

Besides, if there are things about the translation to be upset about it, there are far better reasons.

Here’s the thing, right? The full work seems to be 20 chapters long. Now, Neya most certainly did get to chapter 20. Seemingly in less than a month. Crazy, for a 300-something page work, isn’t it?

But that’s the kicker. Neya didn’t translate everything.

At the time, they cited lack of time and real-life commitments as the main reasons. Still, they wanted the story to get out in some way, so they skipped not only paragraphs or sections they believed weren’t integral to the story – but entire chapters. What their criteria was, I’ll never know. But the fact that they flat-out skipped the first two chapters probably says a lot about it.

As controversial of a decision as it might’ve been, the story did get a mall audience. The translation made some rounds in that small cross-section between people who liked mystery novels and people who liked Japanese anime/manga. I’m not sure what the reception to it was. It might’ve been one of those things where a bunch of people passed the link on to friends who ‘might’ve been interested’, and those friends either didn’t have the time or interest for it, leading to few clicks.

Whatever the case, the blog was gone by 2015. And the translation along with it.

Lost, found, then lost again.

And then found. Again.

A friend of mine, Gil, had come across the translation back in 2013 and copy-pasted the whole thing. He never got around to reading it, naturally.

But, after hearing me bitch about how I wished more Japanese locked room mysteries would be translated for God knows what time, he remembered the word doc rotting away on his hard drive and tossed it in my lap, along with all this bundle of history.

Of course, intrigued, I naturally read it like six months later.

Here’s the last thing you should know about Neya’s translation. Probably the most important part, as it explains why even the few that might’ve been interested in reading it likely never got that far into it.

It wasn’t very good.

Neya’s attempts to make the text more relatable to a western audience helped little when the sentence structure was awkward, some word choices flat-out bizarre, and some descriptions containing flat-out non-sequitors; hell, sometimes two sequential sentences flat-out contradicted each other!

I appreciate the work they did, I really do, and I’m sorry to put them on blast like this, but it truly, sincerely, could’ve done with at least one editing pass.

Which is where I come in.

And which is where we are now.

Because, for all the translation’s faults, I like the story. Sure, the fact that there are chunks missing is a shame, but what Neya did give us, I feel, is enough to put together a coherent story. You can usually pick everything you need to from the general context, in spite of the missing bits of information.

I also respect the time and effort someone put in to create a mystery of their own. There’s something kind of exciting of just having unknown people share their mystery stories. It’s a shame there aren’t, as far as I know, anyway, equivalents to Kurokubi; but I’m not sure they’d take up that much life here as it did in Japan.

I digress, though. The point is, I like the story, and I like the idea of this one random piece of work making it all the way here, over a decade after it was originally posted.

So, here’s to you, Itouikukuro.

The following is Neya’s translation, edited by me. I tried to fix up as much as possible without damaging the story, but I’m well-aware I have a particular style, and I have no doubt that style has, inevitably, made the story somewhat my own. The core of it, however, should still be there. I hope, at least. It’s all like a weird game of Telephone at this point.

Without further ado, please enjoy the reborn (but incomplete) tale of Beatnik Island!


	2. Chapter Three

Tsujiko touched the stranger’s forehead. It didn’t seem like he had a fever, in spite of everything. His body still had the occasional fits of shivering, but, on the whole, his breathing was steady. As a result, so was Tsujiko’s. Being the one to find him seemed to make his well-being her burden to carry.

He looked old. Coupling the white hair and the complexion likely put him somewhere in his early sixties.

What was such an old man doing on the island? How had he even gotten there? Most importantly – just who was his?

A search of the man’s belongings failed to answer any of the three questions. No identification, no photos; not even a wallet. His clothes seemed to be on the more expensive side. The profile of an old rich man was hardly an unexpected one on the island, but none of the guests or the rest of the staff seemed to recognize him. The only clue of note was the scar Tsujiko had noticed on his lower back while they were changing him. A knife wound? Surgery remnant? It was impossible to tell. Which made it impossible to draw any real conclusions.

Tsujiko looked out the window. The snowstorm showed no signs of letting up. Izuru had said that he’d gotten in touch with the mainland, who claimed it was unlikely a boat could be sent until the weather calms. Given that the forecast claimed that should’ve happened the day before, the time of rescue was anyone’s guess. Ultimately, they were on their own.

She patted the stranger’s head and snuck off to the bathroom for a quick smoke break. She said she’d quit. She promised herself she would. But there was only so much stress a nicotine patch could cover up.

As she struck the match, her mind wandered back to Makoto’s marriage arrangement. Calling it a ‘proposal’ would’ve been pushing it. He was, if nothing else, very clear it was anything but traditional.

She hated admitting it – she likely never WOULD have admitted it to someone like him – but he had a point. Being a servant at a resort mostly reserved for creepy old men was not where she intended to spend the rest of her days. He could have been her ticket out of there. He was rich. He was handsome. He was still young. So what if he wanted to see other women? If anything, that made the arrangement that much easier to stomach.

The one thing she couldn’t understand was – why her? His reputation as a womanizer no doubt preceded him; he could have had any woman he wanted, of any standing, certainly of one that his parents and the world would have had a much easier time accepting. Yet, he chose her. Why?

The inability to answer that question put her in an indescribable sense of unease. Perhaps he was simply toying with her? Promised her the world before he shattered it at her feet? Too many people were architects of destruction. Too many of their blueprints for cruelty lingered in the world. She’d been broken once before, her pieces scattered to the sea, washing up on the shore of this island.

If she got herself broken again, where would she end up?

Would she even rise from the ocean again?

**_< Section is missing. >_ **

Makoto walked into the main hallway to see Izuru and Kokone still standing in front of the double doors of the Club Room. The former’s back immediately straightened upon spotting the newcomer, while the latter continued staring off into space, as per usual. The young man scratched the back of his hand, longing for some kind of company or attention.

“Have you two been standing there all this time?” he asked the two servants. “They’ve been in there for hours.”

“It’s tradition, Mr. Yoshida.” Izuru said.

“Yeah, well, we’ve got a comatose guy upstairs and stuck in the middle of a snowstorm. On a remote island. I’d say these are extenuating circumstances.” He stretched his neck. “What are they even doing in there?”

The butler shrugged. “I’m afraid it’s not for me to know.”

“They are reaching out to touch God.” Kokone said, not meeting either of the men’s gazes. “They will call for his eye to slither from the heavens, so that he may see them. Gathered around, as the gods of their own little worlds. And they will stare at the eye, and the eye will blink. And they will choke themselves until their necks go black and they squeeze out their souls, so they may be taken up by God, and God may plant new seeds in his little puppets. And the rejuvenated puppets will go out into the world to do its bidding, up until the next time they gather here.”

Makoto stared at her. “…What?”

“P-Please don’t mind her, Mr. Yoshida!” Izuru quickly interjected. “She’s been… ahem. She’s not feeling well, you see. We think it’s a cold.”

“Cold will be this night. As will be God’s will. What the souls inside the little puppets do not know is that this cycle will be the last. He will take them, as he had others, and leave behind his work. But there will be no further seeds to plant. He is finished here. In spite of his best efforts, we have failed his grand design. He will have to try elsewhere.” She turned to Makoto. “You’ll see. They won’t come out of there.”

She closed one eyelid, staring at the young millionaire.

**_< Section is missing. >_ **

“They’re not a cult. I don’t think they are, at least.” Shiro said. “But it’s tough to know for sure. You hear about all these kinds of weird stories where rich old geezers gather on islands. This certainly fits the mold.”

“I’ve seen no particular social prerequisites to getting here. It looks like a normal resort to me.” Kaede absent-mindedly tapped on the piano keys, just softly enough to avoid the piano making a peep.

“What do you mean? Of course there’s a prerequisite.” Shiro laughed. “Money! Even a day here costs a fortune.”

“You need not remind me of this of this.” She shrugged. “Yet, now that you bring it up, I find it interesting that someone like yourself could find their way here with a journalist’s salary.” she pointed out.

He’d been waiting for that observation ever since he’d gotten there. “Hey, if I’m gonna vacate, I’m gonna go somewhere nice. I work hard. I deserve to play hard, no? Besides, it’s paid by the paper.”

She took the bait. “You appear to be mixing business and pleasure.”

“Well, the pleasure has certainly been sub-par so far, but yes, the business part is still there.”

“Usually investigative journalist try to hide that.” Kaede noted.

Shiro grinned. “I’m too suspicious to not raise flags. Might as well soften the blow and be honest about it.”

“What are you investigating? The Club, then?”

He shook his head. “The Club’s easy picking. Any cheap tabloid can run their mouth and say they gather here every year to drink goat blood or something. That kind of stuff sells these days.”

“Are you any different?”

“I’m not a tabloid writer. And my paper ain’t cheap.”

“Must be a good story, then.”

“Have you ever heard the legend of Flight 879?” he asked, earnestly. “No? Does ‘Phantom Flight’ ring any bells, maybe? Think back, it would’ve been all over the news a decade ago.”

“How old do you think I am?”

“Psh. Older than a decade.”

Kaede touched her chin, trying to think back.

**_< Section is missing. >_ **

“And what about you?” he asked. “Why are you here, Kaede? You don’t mind if I call you that, do you? I feel like we’ve gotten to know each other so well, after all.”

She glanced out the window. “I definitely have no ghost stories to share, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m just here to practice.”

This time, it was he who took the bait. “Practice what?”

Her porcelain face cracked for the first time, the cracks forming what Shiro would only ever remember as a demonic sneer. “Why, murder, of course.”


	3. Chapter Four

A woman’s corpse lied abandoned in the storm.

**_< Section is missing. >_ **

Izuru’s stomach growled. He and Kokone had been standing in that entrance hall for well over six hours at that point. It was a new record for the Club – and for Izuru himself. His knees were beginning to buckle. He knew he wasn’t the only one. It was only a matter of time before the guests began descending on him, wondering where their dinners were, and him sheepishly attempting to explain that, in spite of being the dedicated chef, his duties lied with the Club first and foremost.

He turned to Kokone. “What did the fisherman say to the blind goat?”

She did not return the gesture, choosing to stare off into the distance, as usual. “He said: ‘If you can’t see the water, the water can have no effect on you.’ I imagine.”

“He said: ‘Grandma, put the gun down.’”

Kokone’s eyes moved ever so slightly. “What?”

“What?” he grinned.

“Was that even a joke?”

“The, uh, humor comes from the absurdity of it. Like: ‘A cat walks in the woods and suddenly forgets to breathe.’” Izuru’s stomach growled once more. “Damn. What IS taking them so long?”

“I told you. They will not be coming out.” she said.

“Right.” he glanced at the door. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that.”

“There’s nothing to answer.” Kokone stared at her feet. “This is how it happened there. Things have lined up too well not to happen here, too. I can’t explain it. I won’t even try to. I’m scared. I’m thrilled. I don’t know what to do aside from wait. And waiting is what will end up killing me. It’s what will kill all of us.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

She chuckled. “Nothing. It’s a joke, see? We’re the cat. And when we open that door, we’ll start to hold our breath. And a little after that, we’ll forget how to breathe in again.”

“I’m not going to open the door. I’m sure it won’t be much longer.” he said.

“Yes, you are. You have no choice.”

**_< Section is missing. >_ **

“Alright.” Izuru said, nervously glancing between Makoto and Kokone. “I’m opening it, alright? If they get angry, it wasn’t my idea, got it?”

Makoto shrugged. He knew Izuru would likely be the one to shoulder most of the blame, either way. So did Izuru. But there was only so much strength a hungry man’s legs could offer, and the deep well of patience had long since gone dry.

The butler fished the key out of his pocket. Murmuring apologies, he unlocked the double doors, pushing them open.

**_< Section is missing. >_ **

Shiro and Kaede ran practically step-in-step, trying to find the source of the scream. Given that the latter was in heels, the former would eventually wonder if the woman was on an advanced exercise regimen – or if he simply needed to change his. Whatever the case, it didn’t take them long to stumble into the entrance hall and spot the wide-open doors to the Club’s chambers.

Shiro winced at the grotesque sight awaiting them.

“What the hell happened here?!” he demanded.

Nobody gave – or could give – a response.

Makoto stood over one of the corpses. “Yeah. They’re dead alright.” He pointed at the blackened necks. “I’m no doctor, but cause of death is looking like strangulation to me. Unless all six of these guys were into some heavy fetish play.”

Nobody laughed. Their eyes darted between the six faces scattered on the floor, frozen in terror, eyes and tongues bulging out.

Tsujiko soon appeared in the doorway. She took one look at the scene, covered her mouth, and promptly turned on her heel. Makoto went after her.

“I don’t get it.” Izuru stammered. “I… had the key on me the entire time. I saw all six of them go in. I loked the door myself. K-Kokone and I stood out the entire time! Nobody went in or out! And we heard nothing! Not a peep! I—I don’t understand! This—This has to be a m-mass suicide of some kind, right?”

“There’s no rope.” Kaede pointed out. “And if you intend to kill yourself, there are far better ways to go about doing it. Having your windpipe crushed is not exactly a pleasant feeling.”

“Spoken from experience, huh?” Shiro asked, staring at the ceiling, breathing deeply.

“Nobody went in or out, you said…?” Kaede looked around the room. The Club Room, in fact, consisted of several rooms. The double doors led into the main area, where the corpses were found. It was absolutely barren, save for a circular table placed smack-dab in the middle of it. The bodies seemed to have been almost posed, with their feet pointing towards it, each one almost the exact same distance from it. The only other thing of note was a window, closed and locked, directly across the entrance.

Kokone glanced at the table. The only thing on it was a tattered yellow book.

To the left was a passage leading into a small bedroom. Aside from a simple bed, a nightstand, a wardrobe, another locked window and a door leading into an even smaller bathroom, it, too, contained nothing noteworthy.

“Th-This room used to be the previous owner’s study. I think…” Izuru pre-emptively explained.

Kaede opened the wardrobe. The only thing in it seemed to be black robes. The nightstand also offered little – some candles and matches, tucked inside one of the drawers.

Back in the main room, Shiro fiddled with the light switch. “That’s odd. The light isn’t shutting off.”

“Yes. It was reported that the lights weren’t working properly a day or two ago. We didn’t have time to send for an electrician.” Kokone told him.

**_< Section is missing. >_ **

The five of them sat in the parlor, trying to think of something – anything – to say. Mainland said they would still not be able to come to their rescue, and offered no advice besides: ‘Don’t touch anything.’

It seemed it was up to Shiro to take the first plunge. “It was the guy Tsujiko found in the snow, right? Had to be, right?”

“It was not!” Tsujiko exclaimed just as she entered, a tray of tea shaking in her hands. “I was with him upstairs in the guest bedroom the entire time! He’s in no condition to be doing anything!”

“Alright, well,” Shiro leaned back in his seat, “that leaves Mr. Yoshida here as the most suspicious one, doesn’t it?”

Makoto’s brow rose. “Elaborate?”

“Well, ever since those six entered the club room, Izuru and Kokone were out front the entire time, right? That means they’re vouching for each other’s alibi. Kaede here and I were here all day. That means we’re each other’s alibi. And you, buddy, were just walking around all day. What were you doing?”

The playboy chuckled. “I was in my room. There was nothing to do. And don’t try to play this alibi game with me. Who says one person did all that? You telling me someone managed to overpower six guys on their own? Give me a break. And how’d I get in, anyway?” He pointed to Izuru. “You heard what he said! The key was on him the entire time! He locked the door! Not to mention, the only way to get in or out was through the two of them! How are THEY not the most suspicious ones?!”

Izuru’s eyes widened. “W-Wait a minute now—!”

“The killer obviously used the window.” Shiro suggested.

“I don’t think any of those windows were used.” Kaede chimed in. “Look at that storm outside. If you so much as cracked a window open here, there’d be a small pile of snow somewhere. But the inside was clean. Not a wet spot to be found.”

Shiro was persistent. “Killer cleaned up after ‘em. Easy.”

“Is it now?” Makoto grinned. “Those windows were closed up and locked. Even IF the killer could’ve somehow done all that from the inside, how exactly do they clean the mess up after leaving?”

Shrio scratched his head. He knew he was beat, for the time being.

“Wh—What if someone just snuck into the room before the Club members gathered?” Izuru was the next to make a suggestion. “They hide somewhere in the bedroom, the six walk in, I lock the door behind ‘em. Easy enough, right? It means we’re all innocent and explains the issue of alibis. It even makes Mr. Yoshida innocent, since he was outside when I opened the door!”

“How does the killer leave, though?” Makoto asked.

“W—Well, maybe they don’t! Maybe they-they sneak out while we’re distracted or—or stay hidden!”

“That doesn’t make sense, though.” Tsujiko finally set the tray down between them. “I—I mean, if we’re going with the intruder angle, why wouldn’t they just escape through a window? It’s beneficial no matter how you look at it. If they left through the window, there’s no problem of the locked room, and we’re much more likely to end up suspecting the first person among us without an alibi. All they achieve by staying and hiding is risk having themselves exposed.”

Izuru grimaced. “That—that’s a fair point, but—”

“No, no, wait a minute.” Makoto waved his hand. “Wait a minute. You all distracted me. The obvious answer is the correct answer. Not only did Izuru have the key. Not only would he and Kokone seen anyone going in or out. But Kokone herself basically confessed to doing it earlier!”

Kaede crossed her legs. “Oh?”

Makoto pointed at Kokone, who was sitting in the corner of the room, flipping through the tattered yellow book from the Club Room. “You said it! Don’t pretend you didn’t! You said they won’t come out of there! You even said their necks would be black!”

“It’s true.” Kokone said. “I did. So what? I didn’t kill them. It was the eye of God.”

“I thought most workplaces these days required some kind of a psych test.” The playboy clicked his tongue. “Look, there’s nothing more to discuss here. This bitch is crazy and this guy,” he pointed to izuru, “helped her!”

Tsujiko placed her hand on Makoto’s shoulder. “W—Wait a minute, let’s not rush to any conclusions there, either.”

“Exactly.” Kokone did not raise her eyes from the yellow book. “After all, you still haven’t answered the most important question. You yourself brought it up earlier, Mr. Yoshida. Even with two people, how did the killer managed to strangle six men without so much of a peep or interruption on their part?”

“They were old!” Makoto said.

“Old, but fit. They could’ve taken on Izuru and me.” Kokone licked her finger, turning the page. “And remember. The lights would’ve been on the entire time. There’s no way they wouldn’t have realized what was going on.”

Shiro rubbed his eyes. “I mean, who knows? For all we know, they were all actually killed in the bedroom. The killer waited for them to go to the bathroom or something, strangled them, dumped them in the closet and waited for the next one to show up.”

“That’s just silly.” Kaede said.

“I mean, YEAH, a murder conga line isn’t the most exciting explanation for this, but—”

“For it to happen six times in a row, with each time being just as successful and unnoticeable, in spite of how short the passage to the bedroom is, and in spite of how little space to hide the corpses, and in spite of it being the least convenient or reliable plan I’ve ever heard of? Yes. Yes, quite silly.”

Makoto sighed. “There you go again, distracting me. The answer’s obvious.” He once again pointed to Izuru. “This guy’s the dedicated Chef. He put some kind of sedative. When they went in, down they went, and these two just waltzed in and strangled them. Easy.”

“I think… you’re on the wrong track here. With the two of them in general, I mean.” Tsujiko said. “I mean, I’m not denying they’re probably the most suspicious—”

“Tsujiko! What the hell?!” Izuru protested.

“—But think of it from their point of view. The police will inevitably check the victims’ stomachs, right? They’ll find the sedatives. It’ll be a dead giveaway. And, hey, if they DO find some – you’re right, and that’s that. I don’t… think they will, though. I don’t know Kokone very well, and I don’t know what exactly she said to you back then, but I know Izuru would never go along with a plan that pointed so squarely at him.”

“I can only look at the facts. And the facts—”

Tsujiko squeezed Makoto’s shoulder. “Please.”

He young man relented, falling back into the sofa. “You’re lucky you’re so pretty, you know. Look, all I’m saying is, I’m not going anywhere with those two from now on. Do what you want.”

Shiro glanced back at Kokone. “Hey. Hey! That’s the book from the crime scene! You were SPECIFICALLY told not to touch anything!”

Kokone flipped a page. “I was curious!”

“Go and put it back!” the journalist demanded.

“Hmm. For a journalist, I figured you’d be more nosey.” The maid said simply.

“What is it, anyway?” Kaede asked.

“A confirmation.” Kokone explained. “The six of them were praying to a god, just as I’d said. A god of mystery. This is Gaston Leroux’s ‘Mystery of the Yellow Room.’ One of the first locked room mystery novels ever made.”

**_< Section is not missing. >_ **

“Hey, c’mon, buddy, wake up.” Makoto lightly shook the stranger’s shoulder.

“Stop it. He’s out cold.” Tsujiko said.

He walked back to the window of the guest room. It was just the two of them now – and the stranger – the rest having split off across the mansion.

“This isn’t how I imagined spending my vacation.” he said “I was promised steak. Good steak.”

“The murders also didn’t help, I imagine.” Tsujiko touched the stranger’s forehead.

“Oh, nah. That’s par for the course. Should’ve seen what happened when I went to Okinawa. Whole bloodbath. Butler did it then, too, for the record.”

She smiled. “Well, I’m happy to hear you’re taking it all in stride.”

“No worries. I’m terrified.”

“You do seem like the cowardly type.”

He pulled her by the arm. “Am I, now?”

She blushed. “I don’t think this is the time.”

“Did you think about my offer?”

“It’s all just a game to you, isn’t it?”

“It isn’t.”

“I’m not sure I can believe that.”

He cupped her head in his hands. “I’m doing it because I care about you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Is that what you think?”

She gently pushed him away. “Nobody knows me. That’s why I’m here. That’s why being here is good.”

“Hmph. Even with murders and everything?”

“Even with murders and everything.”

**_< She is missing. >_ **

Locking the door to her room, Kokone threw the yellow book onto the bed. As fun of a read as it was, it did little to help her. Not that it mattered. Those old men had been free to pray to whichever god they chose.

She knew there was only one worth listening to.

From her bookshelf, she pulled a black, worn-out book. It was certainly not a Christian Bible, but it would be a Bible, of sorts.

It spelled her fate.

A fate she knew should would not be able to defy.


	4. Chapter Seven

Kokone was dead.

She was drenched in a pool of her own blood. The gash on her neck was deep. The killer struck fast and mercilessly. Then again, Shiro thought as he stared at the scene, anything short of a deathbed would make a murder merciful.

An open window pane helplessly slammed back and forth, guided by outside’s raging winds.

“Izuru and I found the body.” The journalists explained to the rest. “We bumped into each other in the hallway. Being that we were, uh, both starving, we decided to go to the kitchen. I know, I know – given everything we discussed before, it might not have been the best move. But if he didn’t kill me, hunger would’ve.” He shrugged. “Anyway, we’d just gone through the door to the east hallway when we spotted the door to Kokone’s room slam shut. A scream followed soon after. The door was locked, so we broke it down. And – there she was.”

Makoto stared at the window. “Looks like our killer was in a rush. This was fifteen minutes ago or so? Great. Tsujiko, me and Ms. Hinata bumped into each other in the game room half an hour or so ago. We stayed there until we heard you guys scream.”

Kaede nodded. “True enough. Tsujiko was the last to arrive, but she was definitely there when you witnessed what you witnessed. She wasn’t that far behind me, either.”

“Just goes to show quickly it took me to beat you in pool.” Makoto pointed out.

“Now isn’t the time.” Kaede said promptly. “In any case, as things stand, we’re unfortunately left with an obvious suspect.”

“The coma guy.” Shiro murmured. “Still, I thought he was in the cleared for what happened in the Club Room?”

“It’s foolish to assume the existence of a single culprit. Or the idea that these murders aren’t being orchestrated by two independent parties.” Kaede argued.

The journalist shrugged. “Well, you’re the mystery author, I guess.”

“I checked him not that long ago, though.” Tsujiko insisted. “I’m telling you. He wasn’t in the shape to do any of this.”

“I’m afraid I can’t trust the judgment of someone that isn’t a doctor.” Kaede told her.

Tsujiko looked at the door. It had two locking mechanisms to it. The first was the standard lock, requiring a key. Directly above it was a deadbolt, similar to the one Tsujiko had in her own room. They were fairly new – vertical for unlocking, horizontal for locking. Looking at the side of the door, both of the locks seemed to have been broken.

“Looks like the door was locked with the key and deadbolt…” she murmured. The key to the door was on the floor, on the other side of the room. It was the key to the room – no doubt about it, given the engraving on it.

Tsujiko touched the deadbolt. She felt something sticky on her fingertips.

“What is it?” Makoto asked.

She shook her head. “I don’t know. Probably nothing.”

**_< A section of you is missing. >_ **

They kissed in the darkness of the storage closet. Albeit not the worst place either of them had done such a thing, nor the best one they had available, it seemed like the only fitting place now, given the murderer roaming their halls. Kokone was attacked in her own bedroom. None of them were safe.

In his arms, however, Tsujiko did manage to find some semblance of safety.

“Well? Give it some more thought?” he grinned, his teeth shining in the dark.

“Let’s not talk about that right now, okay?” she whispered.

“I love you.” he said.

“I… I know.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.” She chuckled. “I’m sorry. This is all just a bit sudden for me.”

“You only live once, you know.”

“Which is precisely why I don’t want to rush this.”

“Do I look like the type of guy to drive us off into a ditch?”

“I don’t know. You’ve got the hands of a bad driver?”

“Whaa? How can you tell that just by hands? Are they tiny? I’ve always known they’re tiny.”

She giggled.

He kissed her again.

“I can’t believe I found you.” he said.

She kissed him.

As long as he didn’t talk about the past, it was okay.

**_< Section is missing. >_ **

Izuru paced up and down the parlor, much to Shiro’s annoyance. He understood the man’s trauma of seeing his co-worker dead. But he also understood he was hungry, and that Shiro was the only one who knew best how to operate the damn kitchen.

“I don’t understand.” The butler muttered. “I-I don’t! How could this happen? I—She—Listen. I understand what im-impression she might’ve given over the past few hours. And I don’t know what’d gotten into her. I really don’t. But she was a good girl. A sweet girl. She always did her best. I-I know I sometimes yelled at her. I know I was sometimes harsh, I know was unfair, I know I was—I was a terrible person to her and I wish I—” His voice quivered. “For was so young! T—To be killed like that, I—”

Shiro cleared his throat. “Izuru.”

“The old men, I could understand. I mean, it still feels senseless, but I could understand how you’d want to gather those rich bastards in a room and go to town with them, you know?! But why her? What the hell was the point of attacking her?”

“The killer could just be trying to pick us off one by one.” Shiro pointed out.

“Then WHY haven’t we all barricaded ourselves in a room yet?! At least then, th—the killer might be put off by the power in numbers!”

“If there are two killers, then it becomes 3 v 2. Those aren’t bad odds.”

Izuru stared at the journalist. “Is it you? Did you do it?”

“What?”

The butler grabbed the journalist by the collar, pulling him out of the armchair “DID. YOU. DO IT?”

“What the hell?! N-No! I—I’m not the killer!” Shiro yelled.

“How does a journalist get here, huh? How could you possibly have enough money to stay a night here, let alone a whole week? You think I’m stupid? You think I’m just gonna let you kill me like you killed her?” Izuru’s fist came down on the journalist’s face.

“S-Someone help!”

“Yeah. Yeah, get your killer body to help you.” Izuru pushed Shiro away, slamming him against the ground.

“F—For crying out loud—”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m—Calm down! Just stop! I’m researching the plane! The plane!” Shiro tried desperately to catch his breath. The butler was proving far stronger than he first appeared.

“What plane?”

“A plane c—crash-landed on this island a decade or so ago, didn’t it?! The Phantom Flight?! You have to know about it!” Shiro used the coffee table as support. “Flight 879! Remember? Got lost on the way to Perth an—”

“Yeah, I know the flight, what of it?”

“People said the reason it crashed was—was because this island emitted some kind of electromagnetic field that tampered with the plane’s systems. I looked back and realized there were three other missing flights that disappeared whenever they had to adjust their route to go over this island. There’s something here. And I’m trying to find it. That’s why I’m here. I swear. That’s the whole story. My—My paper paid for everything. Please don’t hurt me. Just—”

“Stop!” Izuru exclaimed.

But Shiro had already sprung back. “—Just leave me alone!”

Under different circumstances, Izuru would have maybe chased after him.

But he was hungry.

So hungry.

**_< Come now. Try to remember your past form. >_ **

Kaede shook the stranger. As hard as it might’ve been to admit it, he really did seem to be out cold. His body felt limp, in spite of the occasional shivering.

Makoto stood by the window as Tsujiko tended to Shiro.

“Guy’s lost his marbles.” Makoto proclaimed. “I told you. I told you not to hang around him.”

“He’s just upset. He’s hurt. I get it.” Shiro sighed. “He… definitely communicated the pain.” He flinched. “Ow.”

“Hold still.” Tsujiko told him.

“I’m—Ow—Trying.”

Makoto shook his head. “One punch and you fold like broken glass.”

“Psh.” Shiro rolled his eyes. “I’d like to see you take a punch from him. If it turned me to glass, it’ll send you to a different dimension, pretty boy.”

“Well,” Makoto smiled, “at least you agree I’m pretty.”

Kaede cleared her throat. “I’m afraid I’ll have to concede that the stranger couldn’t have pulled off any of the killings. For one reason and one reason alone.”

All eyes turned to her. Someone said: “Which is?”

“I’m fairly certain this man is paralyzed from the waist-down.”

**_< Section is missing. >_ **

Izuru sat slumped in the parlor. Alone and defeated. He didn’t want to die on this island. Yet, the fact that Kokone was dead made him feel as if he should. It was a funny thing, the way fate worked.

He shouldn’t have punched the journalist. It was stupid. Even if everyone got out of it – even if it had all been the work of an intruder – he was now likely to lose his job.

He chuckled.

He cried.

He poured himself a glass of whiskey.

He cried some more.

He threw the glass away.

He took a swig from the bottle itself.

He got up.

He went to Kokone’s room.

He stared at the corpse.

He thought about dying.

He thought about all the words he’d never got to say.

He thought about her eyes.

He glanced at her bookshelf.

He noticed something was odd with one of the books.

He pulled it out.

It wasn’t a book at all. It was merely a hardcover – the actual pages had all been seemingly ripped out.

He took another swig from the bottle.

The cover read:

‘The Strange Tale of Beatnik Island’ by Itouikukuro.


	5. Chapter Eight

“Hello! This is Rokkenjima! My name is Ushiromiya Battler! Please respond! This is Rokkenjima! Can anyone hear me! People are dead! We need help! Please respond!”

George stood at the shack entrance. “Battler—”

Battler gripped the receiver even tighter. “Can anyone hear me?! Please respond! I repeat: PEOPLE ARE DEAD.”

George stared at his feet. “Battler, it’s broken. Come on.”

Battler slammed his fists against the table. “PLEASE. FUCKING. RESPOND.” Again. And again. And again. “Shit!” He pushed the broken radio off the table. “Shit! Shit! SHIT!” He clutched his head.

Thunder roared in the distance.

The pair returned to the guesthouse. Three taps on the door, as agreed, and Jessica let them in.

“How’d it… go?” she asked.

Battler simply walked past her. That was answer enough.

Shannon, Doctor Nanjo and Maria were in the lounge. Even if tiring, the games likely helped keep their mind off the nightmare they’d found themselves trapped in.

Battler considered their options. The storm was showing no sign of calming. Escape was, therefore, impossible. Barricading themselves in the guesthouse had been the smartest move on the survivors’ part. Even if it turned out one of them was the culprit, the chances of the culprit standing a chance against several people at once were smaller than whatever the alternative was.

Of course, all it really took was a moment where their guard was down. Just one mistake and it was all inevitably going to snowball. So, as good as those odds might’ve seemed, they weren’t good enough.

Battler understood this. As did everyone else, to an extent.

“Let’s… I don’t know.” Jessica sighed. “Let’s go through Mom and Dad’s murders again.”

Doctor Nanjo cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, my dear, but… I really don’t think it’s appropriate to be discussing this… in front of…”

Shannon squirmed in her seat. “I… agree. We’ve been over this hundreds of times by this point, and—"

“I’m not gonna just skirt the subject forever!” Jessica said. “We need to figure out what happened! I… We can’t just sit here hoping for a miracle! Somebody murdered our family and something tells me if a bunch of adults couldn’t stand against them, neither can we! Not unless we know what we’re fighting against!”

Battler frowned. “What do you mean by ‘what?’ Don’t tell me you’re giving into this witch horesh—”

“Uu-uu.” Maria interrupted. “Don’t say it, Battler! You’ll make her mad!”

“See?” Battler pointed to the kid. “Is THIS what we’re stooping to now?”

“Mom and Dad’s murders.” Jessica placed her hands on the table. “Nobody can explain it. We saw both of them walk in their bedroom. All of us here were right outside. It should’ve taken only a moment, right? And it really…” She blinked. “…It really did. We heard the gunshots – what? – a minute later? We went in, and there they were. And there was nobody in the room.”

“Windows were all locked…” George rubbed his hands together, glancing in Shannon’s direction. “…And the gun was right there, wasn’t it?”

Shannon nodded. “There was also nobody hiding in the room.”

“And,” Doctor Nanjo added, “I can assure you all of the… ahem… bodies we’d found up to this point really were dead.”

“Kanon is missing.” Battler reminded them.

“Kanon didn’t do it.” Jessica crossed her arms. “Now—”

Battler chuckled. “You can’t be serious! The ONE person—”

“He didn’t do it! End of!” she hissed.

“So, what? It’s a witch? That’s easier to accept than some guy you’ve got a crush on? I thought you, of all people, Jessica, would be better than that.” Battler shook his head. “Listen, this isn’t some fantasy story, okay? There’s not gonna be a prince on a white horse coming to save us. This is the real world. And as much as I want to believe that none of us did this… This is a matter of survival now. And to survive, we need to consider all options.”

“Then why won’t you consider the idea that MAYBE this is bigger than all of us?!” Jessica demanded. “And who the hell are you to lecture me?! Come here after six years, talking and behaving like you should somehow have a say in anything – look, we get it, you were sad about your Mom, but you guess what? You chose to leave. And you left! And now that you’ve realized you’re too much of a waste of space to achieve anything, you came crawling back to get your hands on some quick cash!”

George leapt to his feet. “Jessica!”

“How’s that for consider all options, Battler?!” Tears welled in her eyes. “Huh?! How’s that for—” She closed her eyes. “I’m—I’m sorry, I—” She sniffed. “Oh, man, I didn’t—”

Battler sighed. “It’s… fine. I’m sorry, too. I just…” He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. Okay?”

Jessica nodded. “Yeah.” She wiped her tears. “Yeah. I know where you’re coming from. But Kanon didn’t… do it. Alright?”

Battler didn’t respond.

“Whoever the culprit is,” Shannon cleared her throat, “the point still stands that nobody could’ve killed Master Krauss and Mistress Natsuhi. Kanon or not.”

“Uu. Beatrice did it.” Maria laughed.

The night laughed, too. Through the thunder, through the rain, through the blood and the tears – and through the sneering eyes of the witch’s portrait – the night laughed away, knowing dawn was too far away, and life far too short.


	6. Editor's Note

I apologize for the previous chapter. I was certain I’d copy-pasted the right document. I assure you, that most definitely was NOT a part of the translation. I don’t even know how it happened, given that the translation never even had a Chapter Eight. I want to remove it, but to be entirely honest, I’m not all that sure how. The layout feels very confusing. I’ve never been that handy when it comes to computers, though.

I’ve also been talking to someone. They’ve been saying a lot of things that don’t quite make sense to me, and this is the most pleasant way to ask them to stop, since I’ve long-since decided and made clear that I will no longer be making attempts to respond.

Another thing I feel I have to mention are some of my own impression. I don’t know if it’s just been a while or something, but the story isn’t quite playing out as I remember it. For instance, I don’t actually remember there ever being a stranger. Or Kokone dying this early. Or it having… an actual, in-universe book. Maybe I’ve just confused it with something else over the years? Well, I’ve come this far. Might as well push the rest of it out.

Speaking of, the next few chapters will probably be slightly delayed.

I have an early flight tomorrow.


	7. Chapter Eleven

Izuru was dead.

There was no need to discuss it. No need for in-depth investigation. No need for elaborate timelines or alibis. No locked rooms. No blood.

Only the man.

And the rope around his neck.

“Cut him down.” Tsujiko whispered, her voice cracking. “For crying out loud, SOMEONE CUT HIM DOWN!”

Left to right, his body swayed.

His soul had gone off untamed.

The note on the table said very little.

Except for the part in the middle:

‘I wish I could tell her how sorry I was.’

‘But this is all a man like I does.’

**_< Section is missing. >_ **

“I’m going out alone.” Shiro said, in spite of their protests. “If we all leave, we leave the coma guy behind in the hands of a possible intruder. And even if it’s not an intruder, all we’re doing is leaving ourselves easy pickings in the storm, right? I’m going alone.” he repeated. “I’ll go, see if I can get to the boat. If it works, great. None of us know how to use it, and we might freeze on it, but it’s sure as hell better than saying in this hellhole.”

Makoto shook his head. “This is crazy. Look, it’s over. It was butler and maid combo.”

“He was with me when Kotone was killed.” Shiro pointed out.

The other man rolled his eyes. “It was a trick! I’m telling you. He couldn’t take the pressure, so he ended it.”

“Why wasn’t it in the note?” Kaede asked.

“I don’t know. He was embarrassed?”

“Enough.” Shiro said. “I’m going.”

His eyes met Tsujiko’s.

“Just be careful.” she told him.

“Yeah. ‘Course.”

**_< You’ve fallen deep. Deeper than you ever have. And on the deepest part is the frozen lake, and on the frozen lake is the Devil. I’ve led you to him. Why not? My kittens would love a good show. Face up to it. Don’t look away. Sooner or later, you’ll run out of these little skips. This can only distract for so long. We both know why you’re doing it, anyway. You’re bored. You want to get to the good parts. Like me. Like all of us. But you are not us. That is the main difference. You are only human. Only human. >_ **

Tsujiko rubbed her eyes. The stress of everything was starting to get to her. “I’m sorry.” she said. “I’ve thought about it, I really have – but I think I’ll have to decline your offer.”

Makoto smiled. “You could’ve taken more than a day for it, you know.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

“What’s the problem, again?”

“I don’t understand your intentions.” she said simply. “Why would you marry someone like me? There doesn’t seem to be much in it for you?”

He laughed. “THAT’S what’s been giving you trouble? Come on, if nothing else, that’s the obvious part! Sure, you’re not a superstar, but that’s the point! Use that lil’ noggin’ of yours! A rich man who chooses to marry a maid? People would eat that shit up for years! They’ll see it as true love! They’ll see me as a man willing to look past class, and you as Cinderella!”

“I—”

“Frankly, when you think about it, I’m the one getting the worse end of a deal here! I’m getting some extra publicity, while you’re out there getting everything you ever wanted! What’s there to reject? If you want to be with other dudes, be with them, just be discreet about it!” He chuckled. “Oh, man, you’re pouting. You’re so damn cute when you pout.”

“I’ve… made up my mind.”

“Come on. Let’s make out. I bet you’ll like it.”

“No. No! Please. Just. Leave me alone.”

“Tch. What? You’re too good for me?”

“I’m not comfortable.” She looked away. “With kissing.”

He raised his brow. “What? What kind of a woman are you?” He shook his head. “Whatever. You know, years from now, you’ll back on this while eating pudding in a little shithole apartment of yours, wondering where your life went wrong. Well, let me tell you sugar. It went wrong here. Right here. Alright?”

She said nothing.

He slammed the door behind him.

**_< How does that song go? ‘Ashes, ashes, we all fall down?’ My, my. I’m afraid I really am being a bit on the nose here. But you don’t seem to be understanding. Are you even listening to me? >_ **

Makoto swallowed the vodka in one gulp.

It burned.

“What’s that?” he asked Kaede.

She was staring at a cover of a book. The book itself having all its pages torn out. ‘The Strange Tale of Beatnik Island.’

“I’m not sure.” she said. “I found it on the nightstand over there, next to Izuru’s… Well. You know.”

“It’s just a book.” he stared at the ceiling, absent-mindedly.

“Maybe. It could just be my brain. Island. Strange things. Making connections that may or may not be there.” she admitted.

“Hey. Lemme ask you a question.” His head was still pointed firmly upwards. “Why’d you come here?”

“I was looking for inspiration.” she admitted.

He chuckled. “Find any?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“On whether or not I make it out of here alive.”

**_< You will lose this battle. As you were always meant to. >_ **

The stranger rolled in his sleep.


	8. Chapter Fifteen

A woman’s corpse was dragged through the snow.

**_< Do you recognize her face? >_ **

“Where did you even get that thing?!” Tsujiko begged, her hands still in the air. “Please. Please, don’t do this!”

Kaede had no intentions of lowering the shotgun. “I can accept you didn’t kill the others. I’ll give you that much benefit of the doubt. But you can’t try to weasel yourself out of this. You can’t possibly think I’m that stupid.”

“Ms. Hinata, please—”

“I saw you go to the kitchen with him. Two minutes later, you walked out. A minute later, I walked in. And he was dead. No other way in our out. You gonna tell me he stabbed himself? Is that it?”

Tsujiko shook her head. “No! No! I’m—I don’t know what happened, but he was fine when I left! You have to believe me! You have to!”

“Why? Lord knows you had a good motive, too. I saw the way he looked at you. I saw him pester you. I get it. I really do. But—”

“It wasn’t me!” the maid yelled through tears.

“Then who was?!”

“I DON’T KNOW! It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t m—”

“Shut up.”

“It wasn’t me, it wasn’t me, it wasn’t m—”

“Shut up, or I’ll blow your brains out right now!” She growled. “Damn it! Shit! Why did I ever come here…?!”

“I don’t want to die…” Tsujiko looked pathetic.

“I told you to shut up! What’s wrong with you? You’re a servant! Can’t you handle a simple instruction?! Just shut up for a second and let me th—”

Thonk.

With the blunt metallic ring, the writer fell to the ground. Standing over her was a snow-covered, trembling Shiro.

“A—Are you okay?” he asked Tsujiko.

The maid fell backwards, hastily pushing herself away from him.

“It’s okay! It’s—It’s okay! I—Look, I just got back. I don’t know what the HELL is going on, but I know you didn’t know what she’s just accused you of. Okay? I know you. I know you, Tsujiko.”

She grimaced.

“I know you.” he repeated.

“P—Please don’t. Don’t hurt me.”

“I won’t. I swear.”

He dropped the frying pan.

She crawled over to him.

And he held her.

“It’s okay.” he told her.

“I don’t know what happened.” she whimpered.

“It’s okay.”

“I was so scared without you.”

“It’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay.” He put on the best smile he could, given everything. “I came a bit too far to leave this place without you, you know.”

**_< Your mind is missing. Come find it. >_ **

Having tied Kaede up and taken the shotgun, Shiro and Tsujiko made their way to the kitchen.

As promised, Makoto’s body was there, sprawled on the floor. His chest filled with holes, likely made from the icepick lying next to his body.

“I… I didn’t do this.” Tsujiko said. “I—He just wanted me to show him where the food was. That’s it. I didn’t—I had no reason to hurt him. I turned him down. He was fine with it. I… I really didn’t… Shiro…”

He patted her head. “It’s okay. I believe you.”

If Kaede’s testimony was to be believed, however, they definitely had a problem on their hands. The windows were all closed and showed no signs of use. The cupboards were too small for any adult to fit in. The only place of hiding would’ve been the fridge, but it would’ve taken far too long to remove the shelves. And Tsujiko herself agreed that nobody else had been in the kitchen when they’d walked in. In less than a minute, in spite of the door being constantly watched, someone had gone in and stabbed Makoto with an ice pick.

If. Kaede’s testimony was to be believed.

If.

The easiest solution would’ve been that she’d simply lied. She was the mystery writer. It was undeniable She’d had the most experience when dealing with locked rooms. Yet, she’d offered not a single good idea for the problems they’d come across up to that point. Making Tsujiko seem guilty of at least one murder would’ve inevitably forced the authorities to try pin the rest on her. It would’ve been a good cover.

But was that the truth…?

Tsujiko glanced at Shiro.

Shiro glanced at Tsujiko.

She squeezed his arm. “Did you… find the boat?”

He blinked. “Right. The boat. Wow. Completely forgot about that. Um. Yeah. No. The boat’s a no-go. But listen, there’s actually something, uh. Else. I think I know where our stranger came from.”

“Wh—What?”

“It was definitely hard to see. But I’m almost sure of it. There’s a tail end of a plane sticking out about a mile from here. I think it happened again. The Phantom Flight. They just sort of missed the island, I guess.”

Tsujiko stared at him. “That’s… oh, God. D—Are you saying he—swam here?”

“Probably had some kind of a life raft.”

“Even so, I thought he couldn’t walk…? Ms. Hinata said—”

“I don’t think he got here alone. That’s the thing. In fact, I know he didn’t. Because I… I found someone else.” He sighed. “I found her too late. But I found her.”

**_< She is found. >_ **

She was beautiful. Although likely in her middle age, you would never be able to say for certain. Given her clothing, she was a woman of fashion. Of taste. The drying snow now stuck her clothing to her skin, and whatever glamour there had been was long-gone. Her skin was completely blue. Her blood likely not even liquid at this point.

The cold had preserved her.

The cold had ruined her.

The cold had killed her.

“She was buried in the snow. I basically just tripped over her.” Shiro explained. “I… I couldn’t just leave her out there.”

Tsujiko closed her eyes. “I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t want to—I don’t want to keep seeing these people dead like this! I just—I just want to go from this horrible fucking place!”

Shiro hugged her. “I know.”

“She died out there in the cold… Just like that… She was there all this time, and we didn’t find her…”

“It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

“I can’t take this anymore. I can’t. I just want this nightmare to end.”


	9. Chapter XXX

Battler turned to Jessica, keeping his voice low. “You hear that?” He looked down the upstairs hallway. “I think it’s coming from there.”

Jessica nodded, putting on her brass knuckle. She remembered seeing George and Maria playing in the main room downstairs. Battler said he’d seen Shannon and Doctor Nanjo in the kitchen. Meaning, there was nobody else left to make the noises but the intruder.

It was now or never.

Battler moved first, managing to avoid even the slightest creak.

“Magnificent form he’s got there, lads.” Jessica whispered.

“Shaddap.” He hissed, smiling, in spite of the situation.

He put his hand on the doorknob.

“On three?” he asked.

“Three.” Jessica said

“W—"

Heeding no warnings, his or the ones ringing in her subconscious, she rushed past him, practically kicking the door open.

She froze.

The brass slipped from her fingers.

A name escaped her lips. “K—Kanon…?”

There he was. Standing in the middle of the room.

She took a step towards him. “Kanon…! You’re… You’re okay…!”

The door creaked behind her. She paid it no mind.

“You’re okay…!” She touched his cheek. It really was him. He was unharmed. Still okay. “I knew it… I knew you’d be okay. I—”

“Run.” Kanon said.

She blinked. “What? What are you saying? No, it’s me. It’s me, Jessica! Everything’s gonna be—”

“—Okay.” said the voice behind her.

The fist connected with her before she even had a chance to turn around. Landing on the floor hurt even more. Her mind went dizzy. She saw the ceiling light. She saw Kanon. She saw Battler.

Battler, with a bloodied brass knuckle on his hand.

Her blood.

“B—?” She tried, quickly realizing that single punch had likely dislodged her jaw.

Realizing as much himself, but deciding to take no chances, Battler sat on top of her, covering her mouth. She might not have vocalized coherent thought anymore, but she could still scream. And he had no use for screamers at this stage of the game.

“Oh, Jessica.” He laughed. “Oh, poor, sweet, dumb, Jessica. You really had me going back there for a second. Really made my heart race. ‘Came crawling back for some quick cash…’ Sister, you don’t even know how much quick cash we’re talking about. Hell, I didn’t either. Until I found the gold. Wow-wee. You should’ve seen it. A whole little mountain stack. Ain’t that right, Kanon?”

The boy said nothing.

His gaze failed to meet Jessica’s pleading, tearful eyes.

“I’m still not sure how I’ll exchange all of it. But it should be easy enough. Once I become the last surviving Ushiromiya. All I need is a contact or two. And that’s not all that hard to get these days, is it?”

Jessica tried biting down his hand. The attempts only made it hurt more. Made him press harder.

“I get it.” Battler smiled. “You’re not really processing this. I’d be pretty shocked, too. Up until about a minute ago, you were prepared for anything from a witch to Gohda. But me? Evidently not. I mean, how could you be so fucking stupid? Ha ha. And the little moment where Kanon told you to run. Oh, man. I mean,” he looked at the servant, “seriously, now. It WAS a bit too-little-too-late. This is totally on you as much as it is on me. Okay?”

Kanon said nothing.

“Anyhow,” he turned his attention back to Jessica, “I bet you’re still thinking how I did it. You don’t give a damn about the other ones, just Mommy and Daddy. Well, I’ll tell you. It’s easy. It’s so easy I almost burst out laughing then and there. Ha ha. Ten minutes before they entered the bedroom, I slipped a note in Aunt Natsuhi’s pocket. I had Kanon write it, so she’d recognize the handwriting. It said Jessica – that’s you, remember – had been poisoned at dinner, and would die without an antidote. And the only way Kanon, the cruel murderer, would give it to her, if he saw Natsuhi and Krauss die at the earliest convenience. I specifically put in the ‘earliest convenience’ part since I wanted to give her a chance to find the right opportunity. But damn, she was fast. I didn’t even know they had a gun in that bedroom.”

Jessica struggled. But Battler was too strong.

“So, get this.” The Devil showed his teeth. “Mommy and Daddy go in the bedroom. We all wait outside. Perfect alibi for me. Aunt Natsuhi – good, old Aunt Natsuhi – forced to choose between her husband and her daughter. She doesn’t know how long she has. But she knows whatever she’s about to do, she should do it as soon as possible. There’s the gun. There’s the two of them. And there’s the choice. What does it mean to be loyal to the Ushiromiya family? Saving its deceitful, corrupt family head, or ensuring the next one’s survival? Must’ve been a real brain-scratcher, eh, Jessica?”

Futile as it was, she would not stop struggling.

“And then Mommy takes the gun. And pow. Down goes Daddy. And pow. Down goes she. And that’s that. That’s all there was to it. I picked up the note while you weren’t looking, and as far as you were concerned, a ghost did it. Sometimes the real brain-scratchers are the fundamentally simple ones. Then again, it was a brain-scratcher for you. George actually suspected what might’ve happened. I think. He had that gleam in his eye. He’s clever. I’m surprised he doesn’t suspect me yet. Maybe he does. Maybe he’ll rush in through that door and save you! Let’s listen in! Shh!”

All was silent.

Then, through the thick walls, Jessica heard something.

Her ear pressed to the floor, she heard George’s voice. And Maria’s. They were downstairs. They were playing. He got Maria to laugh.

“No? Hm. Well. That’s a shame.” Battler sighed. “Don’t worry about the Doctor. I told you. He’s in the kitchen. At least, his head is.”

All Jessica wanted to do was kill.

Not cry. Not beg.

Kill.

Kill this disgusting monster.

If she could only muster some more strength.

If she could only push him off.

Battler did not appreciate the dedication. He turned to Kanon again. “Hey, Kanon. Look at what I’m doing. I’m going to kill your woman. Pretty messed up of me, right? You love her, don’t you? Why don’t you stop me? Come on, man. I’m right here. One push and you’ll overpower me. And the killings end. The witch dies. One push. One action. And it’s over. I won’t even be mad at you if you do it.”

Jessica looked at Kanon.

Kanon did not look at her.

Why?

Why was he not helping her?

Kanon—

Kanon—!

Battler laughed. “Come on, Kanon. What are you, a chair?”

The servant did not move.

“Aw, well. Sucks for you, doesn’t it?”

And then it happened.

That moment.

That moment he lived for.

The moment where Jessica’s hope withered. And she did not even think about killing. She only thought about Kanon. Her mind rushing through the memories of the past few years. Trying to figure out what she’d done wrong. Trying to figure out the lies from the truth. Trying to figure out if she’d always been just a puppet on someone else’s string. Trying to hope it was all some kind of a dream.

Battler had done it.

Battler had broken her soul.

All that was left was to break her body.

“Goodbye, Jessica.”

And down came the fist.


	10. Author's Note

My head hurts.

I keep thinking of better days. Maybe as a means of distracting myself. Maybe she’s just what I think about whenever my mind drifts like this. Either way, it’s better than murder – regardless of which island. Regardless of the time.

It’s never been physical. I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea, about what she and I have. I guess you can’t even call it a ‘relationship’ in a traditional sense. One time, she suggested marriage – but only as a convenience. But nothing more.

Ikuko loves me. And I love her. And it’s not just platonic. I know that much. But we’re not really lovers, either.

She makes me happy. Something about the way she looks at me. Something about the way she sees the world. I don’t know the half of what reflects in those eyes, to be honest. But bits and pieces of it come through when we write. Those moments where we simply surrender to fiction. Where she forgets that she needs to be who she says she is.

I still remember the first time she showed it to me – ‘The Strange Tale of Beatnik Island.’

Or… no. No, wasn’t it… ‘Kurokubi Island’? Did we change that? I think we did. To which one, though?

It doesn’t matter. What matters is her smile. I was so proud of her.

…

Thinking about it now… there was one time. One time where it… was somewhat physical.

It was after my… fit. Where she found me, broken and begging to die. Through snot and shame and pain, telling her about the demon living in the back of my skull. Hiding. Waiting for the moment to take over. To hurt her. To burn everything I learned to care for. To destroy the world. I kept telling her to kill me. I begged her. I knew she would never understand, even after everything I’d told her about my regained memories, but I begged, anyway. Hoping.

Of course, she didn’t kill me.

For weeks after that, I was stuck in a bed. Unable to walk. Doctors saying that, even if my nerves healed, the damage to my psyche would be a major stepping stone in my recovery. That was the first sign that I would never walk again.

Even so, she lied in bed with me. Held me tight. She said nothing. She understood. Just as I understood that she had no intention of letting something like that happen again. I cried in her arms. She ran her fingers through my hair.

I felt safe.

I felt like going to sleep was fine. Because I’d wake up and be me. She’d chase the demon away.

But I can’t feel her presence. Not here.

Something’s wrong. Something’s terribly wrong.

I need you to keep reading. I have no choice but to do the same. I don’t know what this is. This isn’t her work. This isn’t our work.

My head hurts.

Where am I…?

How did I end up in this place…?


	11. The Blackened Chapter

Panting, Battler rose from the bloodied mass that was one Jessica’s face. Looking at it, you might not even believe it had ever been a face to begin with. No nose. No eyes. No teeth. She’d even stopped convulsing. Not a trace of life left in her.

“…I’m sorry.” Battler said to Kanon. “About earlier.”

Kanon snapped out of his daze. He wiped the tears from his eyes. Battler’s words just barely registered. “What?”

Battler dropped the brass knuckle onto the ground. There was not a trace of joy on his face left. “Back then. In the lounge. I said something like: ‘There’s not gonna be a prince on a white horse coming to save us. This is the real world.’ That must’ve hurt you. And I’m sorry. I’d said it before I even realized what I was saying. Sometimes I’m like that.”

Kanon said nothing.

“When all of this is done…” Battler slid a hand in his pocket. “…Don’t let me kill you. Got it? Fight, kick, scream, but don’t go down like these people.”

“Tell me something.” Kanon mustered the strength to finally speak. “How can you do that? Nevermind that they’re your flesh and bone. How can you do… this… to anyone?”

“Ha ha. Isn’t it obvious? Haven’t I told you a thousand times? I’m a monster, Sayo. If you refuse to believe that at this stage of the game, you’re just in denial. And, if it makes doing this any easier, I won’t complain. But there isn’t gonna be some sudden reason that makes it better. Nobody hit me. Nobody tortured me. Nobody brainwashed me. I’m just a greedy asshole. …No. Maybe it’s worse than that. Maybe there’s nothing within me to begin with. Maybe I’m the one in denial; giving myself an excuse to take it as far as I am. I am hollow. And I want everything to be as hollow as I am. Ha ha. Isn’t that funny?”

Kanon said nothing.

“Tell me something, though. I am genuinely curious.” Battler closed his eyes. “I did another thing back there without really thinking. I egged you on to stop me. And after I said it, I was sure you’d do it. I regretted doing it immediately. I figured that’d be my one mistake that ruins me, at the very end. But it didn’t. YOU didn’t. Why?”

Kanon looked at the lump of flesh at his feet. “Maybe I’m hollow, too?”

“Nah.” Battler said. “You’re the exact opposite. There’s too much within you. You love. You love more than you could ever want to. I can’t. Not a single person.”

“Not… even me?”

Battler touched the servant’s cheek. “…The fact that you would even ask me such a question means must’ve I obliterated all that was left of Kanon back there. Ha ha.”

Beatrice closed her eyes. “Answer the question.”

“It’ll break your heart.”

“You’ve broken it far too many times tonight for it to matter at this point.”

He pulled her close to him. “Tell me something. If you could turn back time, would you do it? Would you undo everything I’ve done here?”

“I can’t. I’m not a real witch.”

“Answer the question.”

“Yes. Yes. A million times – yes.”

“But you can’t. So, what will you do?”

She smiled, stroking his hair. “I won’t let you kill me. I’ll fight, kick, scream – but I won’t go down like these people.”

She placed her head on his chest, and his cupped the back of it. She knew he could kill her. He knew it even better. He imagined it happening a million different ways. Each time where she least expected it. And he knew it’d hurt her. That it’d destroy the very essence of her being. In her heart of hearts, she truly believed he loved her. She truly believed that, no matter what, he would not turn his evil hand on her.

…Maybe she was not wrong. On some of those points.

“I was thinking,” he whispered in her ear, “we could do George next. You still have the ring he gave you?”

She nodded.

“Great. Have Shannon wear it. Then call him up to the room across. Let’s gives him the surprise of his life.” He touched the tip of her nose. “Don’t worry. I won’t kill him right away. Let’s say – seven minutes of heaven?”


	12. Tohya

Where the hell am I?

No. No, I already know the answer to that. I’m standing in the rose garden of Rokkenjima. A rose garden that should no longer exist. I remember it. I remember it all. This can’t be real.

My head hurts. I was… reading something? No, I’d already… read something. The Strange Tale of… Wait a minute. No. No, I’d written that. With… Ikuko. And someone… put it up online? And translated it to English? And then I… Right, I… I was sharing or… or reading? Wait. Why would care about an English translation? It was incomplete, right? Why would I put it up like that?

My head hurts. I can’t make sense of it. What I was reading… seeing… posting? It wasn’t what we’d written. It was similar. The characters were all as we’d made them. No, no – not all of them. The stranger in the bed wasn’t there. And the… the plane crash. Where did that come from? The woman in the snow at the end there? What? And… Kokone didn’t die. Not that early. Not like that.

My heart hurts. I feel sick. Why can I feel my legs? I’m standing. I’m standing! This can’t be real.

No. This is… supposed to be… the real world, right?

It feels the most real.

This is where I’ve been this entire time.

My head hurts.

Everything feels shattered.

I can’t wake up.

“At least you acknowledge you’re not awake.” A voice speaks.

I look up.

Standing in front of me is a woman in a majestic pink kimono. Tall – taller than me. The droplets of rain almost seem to skew by her, too intimidated by her presence. Her face is stoic. Perfect. Solemn. Content. Amused.

Eternal.

“I… kuko?” I mutter.

The woman’s smile is enchanting. “I’m afraid not.”

“Where is… Ikuko?” I ask.

“My, my… You are, certainly, one of the most entertaining Readers I’ve ever had. Most coat the reality in layers upon layers of their own wants. You… You coated your very state of existence in fantasy, while changing almost nothing of the story itself. Well, besides all the skipping. But that was fair, enough. On the whole, truly fascinating. There were times you got so worked up I had to start trying to pull you out of the trance. I apologize if you… disliked my means of reaching through.”

“I can’t remember anything.”

“Sure you can. You remember the flight, do you not?”

I try to think. “Maybe. I—Wait. Yeah. Ikuko and I were… going somewhere. To meet someone. I… think?” No. Wait. Of course I remember. We were going to meet Ange for the first time. I was going to tell her… the truth. About myself. About her brother.

“What happened?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know! It’s… I remember getting on the plane. And then… Something happened. Bright, then dark. Then bright again. Then, the shaking. I remember it was cold. And hard to breathe. And then easy again. And my skin hurt. And…” I grit my teeth. “Just tell me where she is! Where’s Ikuko?!”

“In due time.”

“What was I reading?! What was—Who were those people?! On that island?!”

“They are who you saw them as. As I said, in that regard, you were a very unique Reader – you saw them as nothing but what they actually are.”

“I don’t understand. I don’t understand any of this!”

“Of course you do, Hachijo Tohya. Just think. Your memories alone should tell you what’s happened.”

I grab my head. “I… The plan crashed. It crashed, didn’t it?! There was a plane crash in the story. But not in the original one. The one I saw. I—Wait—No. No, that can’t be right.”

The woman’s smile is unbreaking.

“…It’s not a story, is it? It’s all happening. I’m the stranger. I’m lying in that bed right now, aren’t I? I’ve been lying there this entire time. But how…? How can these… people from our story… exist?”

“The world is a place of infinite potential. And so are the boards witches create. You should be flattered. Your story was translated. Into the real world.” The woman laughs, drowning out the sound of the rain, reverberating in my ears, tearing my skull inside-out. She’s beautiful. She’s evil. I want to die. I’m dead.

No.

Not dead yet.

Withering in a bed, shivering from the cold, suffering the worst kind of nightmare – but not dead. Yet.

“I have to wake up.” I say.

“Of course you do. I think the ending you can make now is a lot more entertaining than the one Ikuko penned originally. Don’t you think?”

Shut up.

“I… How do I do it? How do I get out of here?”

She takes a moment. “Well. You’ve fallen lower than you ever have before. The lowest of the low. This place is the very bottom, actually. And, at the bottom—” She snaps her fingers. The garden disappears. The ground under my feet turns to ice. The trees wither and scatter in the wind. The bricks of the mansion are swallowed by the red moon above. The only thing remains is a light, off in the distance. The light of a house. “ – At the bottom, Hachijo Tohya, is the Devil himself.”

I peer into the light.

And I see it more clearly.

It’s the light of the guesthouses.

The woman continues: “The Ushiromiya Battler of this fragment is certainly… a different kind of person. His memories were far more than a nuisance. They were an eternal torment on your soul. Waking up as him someday would not only mean he would kill Hachijo Tohya. It would mean he would likely kill many more. And now, at the lowest of the low, you must come face-to-face with him. Beat him. Or die forever.”

I shake my head. “No. No, you can’t make me do this! You can’t!”

“My dear Tohya…” she sighs, “This is the prison of your own design. Love will not quench this demon’s thirst. Nor will it set either of you free. It was inevitable. He was always there. Always waiting. And now, he’s waited long enough. Be grateful for the years you’ve spent as Tohya. And let the memories as the man you believe you are give you strength to defeat him.” She chuckles. “Or, fail and die. Either way, I am certain you’ll make it worthwhile.”

She snaps her fingers once more.

And she’s gone.

“No.” I say. “No, you can’t do this! No, no, no! Fuck! FUCK! IKUKO! WHERE ARE YOU?! IKUKOOOOOO?! HELP ME!”

I fall to my knees.

“Anyone… Anyone, please… Please, help me…”


	13. The Third Day

Battler shielded his eyes from the sunlight. At long last – the end of the tunnel. And the last of the gold. They’d made it just in time, too. He’d undershot how long it’d take them before the island exploded. Beatrice got herself a scratch. But she didn’t complain.

He dropped the four bars on top of the little stack he’d formed in the shade.

“We’ll leave it here.” He turned to her. “Nobody found this entrance after all these years, and I have no reason to start thinking they’ll manage to do it now. When the heat dies down, we’ll come get it. Alright?”

The witch nodded.

“…Still thinking about Maria, aren’t you?” he asked, walking over to her.

“No.”

“Don’t lie.” His eyelids dropped ever so slightly. “Not here. Not now. Not to me.”

She refused to look him in the eye. “What do you wish of me? To say that I’m regretful? That I hate you? That I wish you’d never been born? That I’d never been born? Should I say that this will haunt me until the moment I die? What? What do you want me to say, Battler?”

“If living’s the problem—”

She laughed. Her throat raspy. Her eyes all but glazed over. “You know… what the worst part in all of this is?”

Battler shrugged. “Enlighten me.”

“I really want to believe you. That you’re some kind of mythical monster. That you’re larger than life. That you’re just so empty that the only thing you understand is the need to hurt and destroy and be what you feel you do best – I really do want to believe all that. But I can’t. I can’t do that, B-Battler…”

She dropped to her knees. “Th—That boy f-from six y-years ago… He wouldn’t have… done something… like this…!” She buried her head in her hands. “What… have we done? What have we done?! We… We killed them—them all…! A—And for—for what? For wh-what…?!”

Battler slid his hands in his pocket. “Well, now—”

“No!” She shrieked. “No! Stop that! Stop—Stop talking like that! Stop—Stop it! That isn’t you! That CAN’T be you…! Somewhere deep down, I KNOW it hurts, and I need to know th—that! B-Because… Because a-at least then, I—I can believe th—that you don’t… have t-to be l-like this…!”

He sighed. “…Man. Man, man, man.” He scraped his left shoe against the ground, peering off into the distant sunlight. “You’ve really gone and made this cliché, you know. The old ‘woman who dates a bad boy, thinking she can change him’ is pretty worn out, even fo—”

“You sent me LETTERS! F—For six years! Th—That person—”

“I told you what you wanted to hear. And in return, you told me what I needed to know. It’s as simple as that.”

“No!”

“Yes. You can refuse it as much as you want, but it doesn’t make it any easier. I told you. We’re not the same. You were going to kill them, with or without me. The moment you told me about the plan, I knew you’d break. You’re not a witch. Only human. And you loved them. Some of them. Whatever the actual number, it was more than you could afford to give. That’s what helped you kill. Me? I’m still the same as I’ve always been. I told you. I warned you so many times. You could’ve stopped me at any point. You didn’t. Because you were imagining this moment, where I look to the sunrise and cry. But I can’t. I won’t.”

She gritted her teeth, trying desperately to stop the sobs. “You really… don’t love… anyone?”

“No. Not a single person.”

His eyes reflected in hers.

She got to her feet.

He knew.

She didn’t care that he did.

Two steps, and she’d already closed the distance. She wrapped her arms around him. And she did not stop.

He gave in to gravity.

Another step. And they’d reached the edge of the dock.

Another. And they went over.

In a mere instant, his lungs filled with water. Vision grew blurry and dark. Even so, when he looked down, he saw the faint outlines of her face. Her hair. Her eyes. Her mouth. He heard her screaming at him. Chocking with every syllable. She didn’t care. She held him even tighter. She would drag him to the very bottom of the ocean, if that’s what it took.

He smiled.

She hated that she could see it so clearly, his teeth glistening through the tainted green haze.

She dug her nails into him.

He put the palm of his hand on her cheek.

She dug the nails so deep she tore through the fabric of his shirt.

Deeper…

They would fall even deeper…

And darker…

He returned the gesture, wrapping himself around her.

This would, she knew, be her punishment.

She was, he knew, his salvation.

And together—

Together—

Battler opens his eyes.

He’s in the guesthouse. Alone. The grandfather clock echoes in his ears. He smells blood. Even without a speck of it being there.

He gasps for breath. The daydream was one he should’ve gotten accustomed to, after all those years. The ending, however, always leaves him shaken.

He gets up from his armchair.

It’s almost time. He can feel it.

He looks out the window.

The guesthouse stands surrounded by a frozen lake, stretching as far as the eye could see, stopping only to touch the ominous bloodshot sky. This is the home he’d come to know for so long. Ever since… the other ‘him’ had taken over.

But it’s almost time. He can feel it.

The other ‘him’ must be feeling it too.

Battler smiles.

He can make out a silhouette stumbling in the distance.

Almost time.

Almost time.


	14. Cocytus

He opens the door before I even have so much of an inkling of a chance to reach for the doorbell.

He looks at me. At I look at him. It’s a mirror image. Only the mirror is cracked, and its glass is miscreated to begin with. He smiles. I can’t. So he stops bothering to smile, too.

“Hey.” he says.

I can hear the window howling in the distance. How far could I run if I tried to turn on my heel here? Would I even reach anything? Would I simply loop back here? This is where I was always going to end up, apparently. Was I always going to fall? Was there always going to be a plane crash?

Was it always going to be so cold?

His eyes are that of a demon.

And Ushiromiya Battler was never anything but. As far as I can remember, at least.

Unfazed by my silence, he simply steps aside, motioning me in. “You must be freezing. Come in.”

Even from here, I can smell the blood. I can hear the buzzing of the flies. I know what he’s done. I’ve tried to keep it as far away from me as I could. And it only festered. Now I’m not only unable to keep it in – it’s opening its doors to me.

And I have no choice but to participate.

I take a step inside. I gag.

“You’ll get used to it.” he tells me. “Trust me, it’s not like I like it this way. It just won’t come off.”

I see no corpses. Nor defiled organs. Nor heads in jars. Nor giant pools of blood. It’s the guesthouse, as it’s always supposed to have been. But I know it’s all wrong. Its in the walls. It’s in the floor. It’s in the ceiling. It’s in the buzzing of the light. It’s everywhere. They’re everywhere. They’re in this place. As a floorboard creaks, I hear Maria’s last sobs. The cracking of her neck. I want to vomit. I can’t. There’s nothing left in me. I’m starving. It hurts.

He leads me into the lounge. Hopping over the bar, he looks through the numerous bottles. He shows me they spill endlessly. He quite likes that. His drink of choice is gin. Unfortunately, so is mine.

He pours me a glass. I drink half of it. Whether this place is supposed to be real or not, the gin feels real enough.

Slowly, he moves from the back and next to me. His eyes never leaving me. Like an animal waiting to pounce. I’m scared. But the cold’s making me tremble enough. It doesn’t matter. He sees through me. I know he does.

He sniffs, clinks his glass against mine, and takes a sip.

The grandfather clock in the corner echoes in the room. Tick-tock. Every moment of silence a blessing. Every moment of waiting a curse.

Here’s to hopping the former outweighs the latter. Because he’s opening his mouth. And whatever’s gonna happen is gonna happen.

“I’m going to make an appeal now.” he says. “Not to your emotion. You know how well that’s gone for me. Ha ha.” He takes another sip. “Let’s get one thing out of the way: there’s no reason for you to come back.”

I shake my head. “You’re wrong. There’s Ikuko.”

He sighs. “Who do you think Shiro brought in from the cold, man? Who do you think was dumb enough to carry your crippled ass to the shore?”

I keep shaking my head. “It’s not her.”

“She went out there with you. You could only make it so far. Tsujiko saw you. She didn’t see her. She was probably right next to you, but… the snow must’ve buried her just a little bit more.”

“Shut up.”

“Even if the dead woman isn’t her, she must’ve gone with you. If she did, there’s no other shelter she could’ve found besides the mansion. And no other strangers popped at the door. Conclusion: given how long it’s been, she’s frozen to death, then, either way. The island was a deathtrap from the start.”

“I said—”

“And, on the off-chance she DIDN’T go with you to the island, it would only be in the case where she’d died in the plane crash.”

“—Shut up.”

“You’re upset. I get it. That witch outside must’ve told you some pretty messed up things, right?” He refills my glass. “I know what that’s like. Those women really know how to get to a core of a guy, you know? Even for a guy that’s not supposed to have one. Ha ha. And, I understand. I feel it. You were upset when she said you’d make a better ending to the story. You’re upset they’ve somehow constructed and perverted your story in the real world.”

“It – wasn’t just mine.” I squeeze my glass. “She made it, too. And she was so happy when she first showed it to me. All I did was throw in some plot ideas. The rest was all her. I really liked it. I think she did, too. She was proud of it. She was smiling. And not in the way she usually did. There’s always – always a side to her, and that was one I rarely got to see. She was thrilled. I was thrilled. She was childish, but this was the – the pure child, come to life. And I loved that about her. And when I read the text – THAT was HER. Not this… this garbage they’ve had me read. These people are all just caricatures. She actually made me CARE. It wasn’t just a mystery story; it was good enough to be more than that.”

I throw the glass against the wall. “I would’ve never skipped anything. Not a single word.”

“Did you ever tell her that?” he asks.

“What?”

“Did you ever tell her you loved her?”

“What… kind of a question… is that?” I stammer. “I—”

“Because you can’t do that. Not anymore. She’s dead. And she’s not coming back.”

“Screw you!” I grit my teeth. “She’s not dead.”

“It wasn’t your fault. You’re still out cold.”

“Shut up!”

“But here’s the thing, Tohya.” He snaps his fingers. “If you stay here, you can be whoever you want. Now, me – I don’t have much imagination. Who I am would never allow me to build anything more than this: a monument to who I am. To what I’ve done. But you? You have the hope to create a whole new world here. One where you’re happy with her. One where you have the strength to walk in. And it’s a fantasy you can make yourself believe in; over time, you’ll probably forget it’s not even real.”

“But it won’t be real.” I point out.

“Does it matter? You’ll be happy. And you’ll believe she’s happy. How is that different from the usual?”

“Strange.” I murmur.

“Hm?”

“I thought you said you’d appeal to my reason. Not my emotion.”

“Reasonable people want happiness just as much as the emotional ones. The difference is, I’m not going to sell you bullshit. Letting me go also entails… letting me go. Now, I’m not saying I’ll become a mass-murderer. I’ve had plenty of time to think about that. I might not even do anything bad. But I doubt I’ll do much good. I’ll exist. I’ll have desires. And I’ll act on them. And I’ll be disappointed when it doesn’t end up meaning much. I won’t cry at night over what I’ve done. Nor will I worry that someday you’ll come back and overtake me.”

“You don’t know what it’s like. Being out there, with someone else walking in your step.” I say.

“You’re right.” he admits. “I don’t. But this body’s too old to have that brain surgery Ikuko offered you all those decades ago. I’ll have to make do with the situation. Something tells me I’ll manage.”

I laugh. “You really must think I’m a dumbass. I have your memories. I know how you operate. This is all just some kind of a trick.”

“If I wanted to kill you,” he says, “you would’ve died the moment you showed up on my doorstep. Unceremoniously erased. Not a shred of you left. Your mind’s broken. Mine’s the same as it always was. You have no power here. You’re just a sad, little old man. The very fact you’re able to stand on your own two feet is a GIFT I’ve given you.”

“Where was that decency when you were killing your family?” I ask.

“The way I see it,” he crosses his legs, “they could’ve saved themselves at any point. All they had to do was figure out I was the one behind it. Or solved the epitaph. Even if we both know the latter was never gonna happen.” He clears his throat. “Look, we can play this little game of jabs all night long. But you know who I am. And I know who you are. I’ve said my peace. Now it’s up to you to decide.”

“I thought you could kill me at any point?”

“I’d feel much better about it if you just made it easier on both of us.”

“Okay.” I say. “I’ll make this real easy, then: go fuck yourself.”

“Tohya… buddy…”

“You’re a joke, you know that? Your mind really was preserved – you sound like every edgy teen I’ve ever heard in my life. This ‘hollow’ bullshit ain’t fooling anyone, buddy. You’ve mistaken it with ‘shallowness.’ No wonder it was so easy for me to emerge the way I did. There was practically nothing to really take over but your disgusting little thoughts. This whole thing about killing me? It’s not happening. I’ve been here for decades – longer than your entire existence. You think it’ll be as easy as taking away my legs? ‘Buddy,’ I don’t think you’ve noticed, but I’ve been without legs for a long time. Thanks for the stretch, though.”

“She’s dead, Tohya.”

“So what? I’d rather be haunted by the sight of her corpse than stay here, haunted by the corpses you’ll inevitably create.”

“I’ll bury you at the bottom of this lake.”

I laugh. “You stupid asshole. Haven’t you read the Divine Comedy? Even further down, through the low of all lows—”

I jump at him, wrapping my hands around his neck.

“—Is the path to Heaven!” 


	15. Chapter Eighteen

“I thought we agreed he couldn’t walk.” Shiro murmurs, staring at the empty bed of the guest bedroom. “Did he crawl away or something?”

Tsujiko shivers. “M—Ms. Hinata was the one who said he couldn’t walk to begin with. Does she even have the medical knowledge to say something like that for sure?” The maid gasps. “Shiro. Shiro! She lied about me murdering Makoto. If she lied about that, and this, then—then it must’ve been her and the—the man! The stranger! I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but—but it’s the only thing that makes sense!”

Shiro blinks. “But, when the six men were murdered, you said you were with him the entire time.”

“I—” She sighs. “—No. Not entirely. I’m sorry. I just—I felt so bad for him. I felt responsible. And, I mean, I didn’t think he’d be in the state to—to do anything, but—”

“…Tsujiko? What did you do?”

“What? I didn’t do anything! I just… I went to take a smoke break here and there. And I… I sometimes lose my train of thought. You… know?”

Shiro’s eyes widen. “Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. So, you’re saying he could’ve—” He squeezes the shotgun in his hand. “Then… For the first murder… what happened, exactly? He just snuck off, got to the room before it was locked? And he escaped while we were busy with the bodies?”

“Kokone’s murder is easy. He would’ve been able t—to just move around. Nobody was watching him at the time.” she points out.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He licks his lips. “Now he’s just walking around?” He looks at the gun. “Are there any more of these around? Where did Hinata even get it?”

“There’s… There’s an antique room, way off in the corner of the m-mansion, but nobody uses it—”

“Are there any MORE of these?”

Tsujiko covers her mouth.

Shiro exhales, his mind racing.

“Okay.” he says. “Okay. Just stay close to me.”

She nods, grabbing him by arm.

“I can’t fire the gun if you’re holding me.” he tells her.

She lets go. Reluctantly.

It will all be okay.

Shiro will protect her.

It’s how it was ever since they were kids. He’d promised to always be there for her. To help her. To hold her when she was at her lowest point. The first two weeks following her parents’ death she practically spent crying in his lap. He was the only good thing in her life. He was the one thing that made her regret running away.

He was the one hope she clung onto while on this island.

This prison.

This hell.

The laughter of the six men fills her ear. They’re dead. She saw their bodies. Yet, they still laugh. They will always laugh.

She grabs Shiro’s arm again.

He smiles. In that reassuring way only Shiro knows. “Hey. It’ll be okay. I’m right here. Alright?”

She lets go again, nodding.

“Thank you.” she says.

“Hey, still a good chance we both die.” he notes.

“Thank you for coming for me.”

He grins. “You hid well. But I was always gonna find you, kiddo.”

“You made out with this ‘kiddo’ in a janitor’s closet.”

He grimaces. “Don’t make it sound weird.”

She chuckles.

He’s too tense to follow suit.

But it would be okay.

With him by her side, nothing can go wrong anymore. If the stranger decides to attack them, he’ll die. Shiro will blow his brains out. Nothing can hurt her now. The old men can laugh all they want – now until the end of time, she decides – Shiro will be the thing that drowns them out once and for all.

Besides, they’re dead.

She is alive.

Shiro is alive.

That’s all that matters.

“Do you remember that time I broke my finger? In art class?” she asks as they wander the upper hallway.

Shiro’s finger is over the trigger. One sudden movement. That’s all he’s looking for now. The sun was beginning to set. If they don’t deal with the stranger now, things will get nasty. “Y-Yeah.”

“It was the first time you talked to me. Everyone always thought you were the weird one. I did, too. But—You really have a beautiful smile, you know that? You were really sneaky with it. The first time I realized you even smiled made me feel like I’d been initiated into a club or something.”

He says nothing.

“…There’s that flicker in your eyes, when you do it. Even now. It shows up. It goes away. But I always spot it. And it makes me happy. That’s all it takes. That one little flicker.”

Shiro stops.

“I love you.” she whispers in his ear.

“I love you too, Tsujiko.” he says.

She wraps her arms around his waist.

He doesn’t resist.

The two stand, basking in the glimmers of dying light.

“You never should’ve run away.” he tells her.

“I know.” She presses her head against his back. “I’m here now. I’m yours forever, okay?”

He smiles. She doesn’t see it, but she knows. “You’ve become a lot more romantic since then.”

“And you a lot more desperate. Your game must be terrible if you came out all this way for a childhood crush.”

“Crush? We made out. In high school, too. That’s not childhood, either.”

He looks around. He knows the stranger could be waiting for them. If their suspicions are correct, then he’s probably untied Kaede. But he can’t bring himself to tell her to let go. Not this time. Even if they died like this, it almost felt… okay?

He blinks.

He can feel her breathing.

Time passes.

The sun fades off into the distance.

Darkness takes them.

“I’ll have to write a book about this.” he whispers.

She merely continues to breathe into him.

Book.

Book?

A thought appears in Shiro’s head. It’s a small one. Insignificant one. It doesn’t change anything. Something to file away for later.

He almost forgets the gun in his hand.

Almost.

“Come on.” he says. “We should keep going.”

“Mmmm.”

“We’ll live through this, okay?”

“I’m scared.” she admits. “I’ve been so scared for so many years. You don’t even know. I just don’t want to let you go.”

“I’ll be right here. I promise.”

“I’m sorry I’m so weak. You’ve changed, but I still recognize you. One minute alone, though, and you turn me into a crumpled mess. Heh.”

“Time can only change so much. You’ll see. Once we get outta here, we’ll go somewhere nice.”

“I’ve had enough of exotic places. Let’s just… stay at home. On the couch. On a snowy night.”

“Honestly? As long as it’s not a fucking island, I’ll take it.”

“Or a remote mansion full of eccentric weirdos.”

“How about we just stay clear of houses in general?”

“I always liked high-rise apartments.”

“High-rise? How much do you think I make?”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s enough.”

“Well—”

“No matter what. It’ll be enough. Everything will be.”

She closes her eyes.

She breathes so softly.


	16. Tea Party

“I’m worried about it.” Ikuko says, pulling me from my daydream.

I look around.

Oh. We’re on the terrace. Right. There’s something stuck in my throat, like I’ve just caught myself mid-gasp. My whole body feels numb, but I feel tingling in the back of my spine. The birds chrip. The sun shines. The distant sea is calm.

Her expression quickly turns to that of concern. “Are you okay, Tohya?”

I touch my forehead. Ow. “Yeah. My head hurts a bit. Sorry.”

She stares at our teacups. “I knew this tea was on the stronger side, but…”

I clear my throat. “Anyway. You were saying?”

“Oh. Yeah. Tsujiko and Shiro’s romance. I keep going back to it. The conclusion feels fine, and the more I’m willing to believe that it’s ACTUALLY-actually good. But… that’s making me all the more nervous.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the payoff reads well… But I feel it to be almost… Hm. Too strong? Too good?”

I chortle. “What? Your writing has ascended the measly low-class of crime fiction? Are you gonna go back and make it bad?”

She rests her head on her wrist. “I mean, it’s too good in comparison to the rest.”

“What’s wrong with the rest?” I ask.

She sighs. “The romance itself feels off. I’ve always told myself I wouldn’t fall into that pitfall, but I guess it was inevitable. Crimes are just way more interesting to write about than the lovey-dovey stuff. So much so that I’m not sure it’s… believable.”

“What’s there to believe?” I shrug. “Two people like each other. Bam. Done.”

“Well, it’s not that simple, is it? Mystery fiction always have a ‘love at first sight’ type of deal, which is always hard to sell. Not to mention, you focus too much of it, it becomes too boring.”

I nod. “I see. Like in Roger Bax’s ‘Blueprint for Murder.’ Whenever it got to the romance scenes, I just skimmed through it. The murder stuff was just way more interesting.”

“Mhm. If you only have it just for the sake of having it, nobody will pay attention to it – why have it at all, then? That’s the more common one, honestly.” She looks off to the side. “There’s also those that barely develop a romance but have a big emotional climax about it. And it falls flat. Because, again. You don’t really care.”

“You’re worried you fall into that category.”

“Me? No.” He raises her cup. “WE fall into that category.”

I stick my tongue out. “Hey, don’t put this on me. I gave you a totally workable, emotional backstory.”

“Yes. It IS an emotional backstory. On paper. And I exposited said backstory.”

“And you did that – shock of all shocks – on paper.”

“Being clever, are we?”

“I AM clever. You said so yourself.”

“Hoh? When?”

“Once or twice.” Probably. Maybe not in those exact words. I think.

“What’s your solution to this conundrum, my clever little man?”

“Oh, I’m little?”

She winks. “You’re also ‘mine.’”

I focus my attention on the tea. “Well, there’s nothing to do. It’s already in the publisher’s hands. It is what it is.” I scratch the side of my face. “Besides, you know. Maybe sometimes love doesn’t need a huge, 200-page lead-up to it. Things sometimes just happen. That’s life. Backstory, no backstory. We react in ways that surprise even us. Because we’re all good in making up stories and seeing the world a certain way. All a book needs is that one certain perspective. Could be true. Could be false. But it is THEIR perspective. Most books will take the chance to bring those up, only to have them be crushed into a sea of illusions. Say it was all a lie. That they didn’t understand. That’s usually how it is in real life, to an extent.”

I tilt my head. “But you know. There are always exceptions. Sometimes those perspectives, warped as they are, can match between those two people. And even if the world looks on in surprise and mockery, it doesn’t make it any less real. Maybe one of them will wake up one day and realize they weren’t looking clearly enough. Maybe there’s a time limit to everything. Maybe they won’t. Maybe two people can be just that good at keeping each other’s warped views justified. By being the people they think the other deserves. Maybe that’s what love is.”

I cough. “What I’m trying to say is… Uh. I’m not really sure where I was going with this, I guess. Love is just kind of complicated. Not always in a good way. But it could be good. I think it is, in the long run.” Ultimately, I can only shrug. “As I said. Is what it is. Anyway. Mysteries. Murders. You know, the other day, I read—"

“It is what it is…” Her index finger touches her bottom lip. “Say, Tohya?”

“Hm?”

“If an omniscient being saw our story, would he believe me if I said that I would do anything for you?”

My heart skips a beat. “Wh—Where’s that coming from… all of a sudden…?”

“You’re right. Forget about omniscient beings. Who cares what they hear? This is about us. Do you believe? Do you believe me when I tell you that I would do anything for you?”

I blink. “Ikuko…”

“…I should be clear. It’ll sound weird otherwise. I’m not in love with you. That would be… strange. Even if you were to take away the age difference. No. I love you, but in the same sense in which I love myself. Your presence is natural. Comfortable. It fulfils me.”

“Kind of like Bern, I guess?”

She shakes her head. “Bern is… a cat. As much as I hate to admit it, there will come a time where she dies. Owners must outlive their pets. It’s just sad otherwise. I mean, it’s sad either way. But it’s sadder, leaving an animal alone, I think.” She takes a sip of her tea. “You’re, obviously, not a pet. You’re more than that. You’re my friend. My… companion.”

I don’t know what to say.

“And I… I need to know… I need to hope…” She sighs. “That the reason you’re still with me… it isn’t because you have nowhere else to go, is it? I haven’t… manipulated you into believing you only need me? Have I? You’re here… Because you want to be with me… Right?”

I nod. “Of course, I—”

“Of course, if I HAVE manipulated you, you’d still be manipulated. And you’d have no way of knowing any better.”

I look her in the eye. “Ikuko. I… I know who I am now. Who I was, at least. I know what lies beyond this little town. I know what’s on the other side of that sea. I know I have a sister to go back to. I know… the other ‘me’… was good with people. Plenty of friends. Most of them would make good contacts. I could leave, true. I could pack what little things I have, get in a taxi, and fly wherever I wanted. I could make a killing on just the name alone.

“But I don’t want to. I don’t want to go.

“Because, I love you too, Ikuko. And yes. I really do believe you’d do anything for me. Just the same as I’d do anything for you.”

She breaks eye contact. “I’m… I’m happy to hear that. Truly.”

My head hurts.

“I’m really happy… that you told me that… now… at the end…”

I realize.

She’s crying.

I’ve never seen her crying.

“I… Ikuko?”

“I carried you even when I could not feel my own breathing. I was so scared. Not for me. I was so scared of falling. Of hurting your body. I was scared you were even worse-off than me. I was scared I was carrying a corpse. You’d passed out a mile ago. But I kept going.”

“Ikuko…”

“I wasn’t going to give up. Even if I died, it was okay. I couldn’t have imagined life the other way around.”

“No. No, no. No.” I clutch my head. “No! No. We’re sitting… in… in the house. Everything’s fine. We never got on that flight—”

“You know that’s not true, Tohya.”

“No. No! No… No, you don’t understand. You don’t understand…! If… No. No, you can’t be dead. Because, then… Then… Then I failed you. I made your sacrifice mean nothing. I lost. I lost to him, Ikuko! I—”

She puts her hand on my cheek.

“It’s okay.” she whispers.

“Damn you. Why couldn’t we just stay on the plane…?!”

“Because it was flooding, silly. Between dying in ice cold water or the island, I was going to take my chances on the island.”

I shake my head. “It can’t end like this. Please.”

“There’s only so much I can do. There’s only so much cleverness can give us.”

“You’ve spent your whole life reading books about problems and how to solve them. And now… You can’t even… Hah… Think of anything?”

She purses her lips. “You can’t either, can you?”

I laugh. “Fuck no.”

A large shadow is cast over us.

I look to the sea.

I see the clouds that have snuck up on us.

I see the tidal wave about to swallow us whole.

“I miss you already.” I admit.

She leans over the table, giving me a kiss on the cheek.

“Don’t go forgetting me.” she whispers.

“Never.” I say. “I’ll never forget anything ever again.”

“Mm. What’s your name?”

“Hachijo Tohya.”

“The one and only?”

“The only one that matters.” I assure her.

She closes her eyes.

I close mine.

The water crushes me. 


	17. The Dark

“Shiro…?”

Tsujiko stumbles through the dark. How has she managed to lose him…? They were right next to each other, only a moment ago…!

“Shiro!”

And yet, the darkness of the house remains indifferent. No response. No Shiro.

Only her.

And the dark.

“Sh—Shiro, this… This isn’t funny! Where are you…?”

A floorboard creaks behind her. She turns around. The hallway seems everlasting. For a moment, she swears she sees a pair of eyes peer from the other end. But there is no other end. None that she can see. There can’t be a pair of eyes, either, then.

It’s all in her head.

She’s tired. She’s lonely. She’s scared, as much as she hates to admit it.

She won’t give up now, though. She’s been offered a miracle. Shiro – the man she had longed for all those years ago – has come for her. He hadn’t forgotten their promise. He’s here. He’s going to save her. He’s going to take her away. He won’t die. She won’t let him die.

“Shiro!” her scream bounces off the walls, reaching out to her love.

Nothing.

One. Two. Three.

Nothing.

She swallows the saliva lingering under her tongue. “Shi… ro…”

“I’m here.” The darkness speaks.

“Shiro…? Wh—I can’t see you?!”

“Sorry.” the voice says. “I had to check something out.”

“What happened? Why did you leave me?”

“Had to check something out.” he says simply. “The lights aren’t working.”

“Oh, no. The generator must’ve gone out.”

“Guess it was only a matter of time. Anyway, stay right there. I’m coming over to you.”

The stairs in front of her creak.

“I was so scared.” She admits. “Please don’t do that again!”

“I’ve been thinking, Tsujiko. About this. About the island. About these dead people. About the locked rooms. I think I’ve finally found an answer. Frankly, I don’t know how we didn’t see it before. I guess the culprit had some good diversion tactics here and there.”

“You… know who did it? But—But we already—” she spoke weakly, trying to find some glimmer of her lover’s eyes. “The stranger and—and Ms. Hinata…”

“Let’s start with Kokone’s murder. That one’s the easiest of the bunch, at the end of the day. The whole trick relies on the belief that, when Izuru and I saw that door slam, it was the culprit slamming it, locking it behind them, and killing her. But that’s not how it happened. Not really.

“The murder happened way earlier. After killing Kokone, they locked the door from the outside with the key and broke it down from the outside. That was the first step – this way, the lock with the key would be broken. Next was the upper lock. The bolt. They took the key and wrapped a string around it. One end of the string was taped to one of the ends of the deadbolt. The key itself was lightly glued to the door. The culprit then simply left the door open and exited through the window.

“I always found it interesting. That the door slammed shut the moment Izuru and I had walked through the east hallway’s door. But it wasn’t a coincidence. The moment we opened it, we let a draft run through the open window in Kokone’s room, through the hallway. That’s what caused the door to slam shut. When it did, the key got loosened, falling down, turning the deadbolt in the process.

“And, finally, when we were breaking the door down, we caused the key to come flying off the deadbolt, landing on the other side of the room. If the string was thin enough, we wouldn’t have spotted it. And all the culprit would’ve had to do was get rid of it while looking around the room. How’s that, Tsujiko? How am I doing?”

“Why… are you asking me…?”

“Tsujiko. C’mon, now.”

“Sh-Shiro, stop that! You’re scaring me!”

“Who else would’ve been able to kill Makoto?”

“I—I don’t know! B—But she’s—she’s lying! You have to believe m—”

“But the first murder. The first murder’s the one that proves it.

“Let’s start with the alibis. Izuru and Kokone were at the door the entire time. You yourself made a pretty good case on why it would’ve been a bad plan if it were them. And they’re both dead. So, let’s take them off the list. What does that tell us? Nobody went past them. And the window was never used. Conclusion: the culprit was in the room when the door was locked, just before the club members walked in.

“The culprit’s now inside. The question is – how’d they kill six men while the lights were on, in the same room? Conclusion: they didn’t. I wasn’t putting much stock in the conga line theory, anyhow. No – if they were really in the same room that entire time – then the only answer is that they were all murdered in the dark.”

“B—But the lights—”

“Yessss. Funny how you remember that little problem only now. The lights WERE always on.

“…Or were they? It was interesting, that. Do you remember what Kokone had said back then, precisely? The lights had been REPORTED to not work properly earlier in the day. REPORTED. Not that they were. A simple lie, to make the murder more unbelievable. Now, whose REPORT would be taken at face-value? If it was any of the guests, the staff would’ve inevitably checked themselves. Which means…”

“Stop this! For—It’s me! I wouldn’t—! I’d NEVER… I-I don’t know what’s made you act like this, but I’m… I’m really not…!”

“Don’t interrupt.”

“Shi… ro…” Something’s wrong. Shiro’s voice sounds… it’s...

“Well. Anyway. In reality, the lights worked just fine. The old men turned them off, put on the black robes, and stood around the center table. The only source of light would’ve likely been one of the candles that were in that nightstand.

“And in that darkness, standing away from the table, wearing the black robes, would they have noticed someone circling around them, silently choking the life out of them? Probably not. The last man standing might’ve noticed something wrong. But by that point, it was easy enough.

“After the deed was done, the culprit took the robes off the bodies, shoved them in a closet. They hid the candles in the nightstand, figuring they wouldn’t draw that much attention, either way. Finally, they had six hours to figure out how to sabotage the lights. Easy enough, I’d bet.

“The escape itself? Trivial. Risky, but trivial. They just pretended to arrive after the door was broken down.”

“W—Wait!” she shouted. “Wh—Why not just leave through the window?! Didn’t… Didn’t we already talk about this?! Sh—Shiro, stop this!” Her voice grows unsteady.

The shadows on the walls feel like they move.

“That’s the best part, though.” In the darkness, Tsujiko makes out a smile. “Doing everything up to this point would’ve made for an impossible story. But people coming up with locked rooms and impossible crimes usually don’t WANT people to view them like that. The point is, in itself, to leave people with an obvious solution of some kind. A ghost? A witch? No real legends here. Unless we’ll argue a plane did it.

“Suicide? Well, the lights did suggest they would’ve seen their attacker and been complicit. But it couldn’t have been a simultaneous one. There’s nobody to kill the last guy! What do you do?”

That voice—

“What do you do, Tsujiko?”

It’s not Shiro.

It’s not Shiro!

“…Who are you?” she asks.

“Well, it’s simple enough. What if you just give them a suspect? What if they broke into that room, saw all the six people dead, and a stranger, hiding in the room, with them? What if the police saw a scene like that? Well, it’d be unbelievable, but they’d probably think there’s no other explanation: the old man had this stranger kill them, and just a little after he’d killed them, the door was opened, and he had no chance to really escape through the window. So, he had to hide. Maybe, say, under the bed? Nobody did check under the bed, did they? If they had, it would’ve been simple. Open-and-shut.

“But how do you engineer something like that? You don’t just have a convenient patsy lying around.

“Oh wait. You did. A convenient unconscious man. A convenient unconscious man you dragged into that Club Room, into that bedroom, and under the bed. He was supposed to be found. When he was, you’d say you’d dozed off, the poor thing – and when you woke up – he was gone! Would’ve made you look incompetent. All the better, right? Who would doubt the incompetent, stressed-out maid?”

“He wasn’t found, though. And when everyone had broken down the door, you’d already dramatically left the room, so ‘shocked’ at the sight of the scene. You had no real chance to go and point him out for everyone. Sucks, doesn’t it?

“Of course, it was a stroke of luck. After everyone cleared the scene and gathered in the parlor, you went off to make some tea. In the middle of that, you went to check on your patsy. He was still out.

“Good.

“Unfortunately, it was then that you realized it. I don’t really know how. But you did. You realized he couldn’t walk.

“Bad.

“Given that, you did the only thing you could. You dragged him back to the guest room and pretended you’d been with him the entire time.”

“No! No, no! I don’t know what you think you know, b—but—but—Look, what’s gotten into you?! The—The stranger is missing, isn’t he?! He can walk HE CAN WALK!”

“Oh, you killed him, too, I’m sure. Nobody checked up on him in a while.”

The footsteps stop.

“I think, my dear Tsujiko,” the voice says, “that explains just about everything, right? Oh, besides the book. ‘The Strange Tale of Beatnik Island.’ Oh, you poor thing. You couldn’t have known. You couldn’t have known that you’d accidentally recreated a fictitious murder beat-by-beat. You couldn’t have known Kokone had read the book and immediately noticed the similarities. Even before you did what you did.

“The names, the characters. It was all too perfect. She had every reason to believe those men would end up dead. After they did, the book might as well have been her Bible. She knew you were the culprit. Tsujiko is the culprit in the book, after all.

“And she told you, didn’t she? That’s why you killed her and got rid of this strange prophecy someone had written. Short-term, since the book itself still existed out in the world, but it was your only chance. You could only hope the book wasn’t that popular, right?

“That’s the one bit of hope you’ve still got left to hold onto.”

That’s not true.

It isn’t!

She still has Shiro…!

Tsujiko shrieked. “Stop it! Stop it, stop it! Where is he?! Where’s Shiro?! Who ARE YOU?!”

A match is struck.

Light shines upon the man’s face.

Tsujiko covers her mouth. “No. No, no. Who are you? Who are you…?”

Shrio sighs. “I could ask you the same thing.”


	18. The Flicker

“No. No. Shiro wouldn’t talk—talk like—like—who are you?! You—What did you to do with Shiro?!”

The journalist shakes his head. “It’s funny. Up until a few minutes ago, I was stumbling about in the darkness. Then, I remembered I had this match box. The moment I struck the match was the moment it came to me.

“It couldn’t have been the stranger. Not for the old men’s murders. I could believe you losing track of time in the bathroom. But he would’ve had to hide in the Club Room for at least six hours. You’re telling me you didn’t notice him missing for six hours? Not once? Not one glance out the bathroom door. It’s impossible. He couldn’t have done it. Something wasn’t right.

“So… I had a thought. It’d come to me way earlier, but… I… It didn’t matter, then. Now it does.

“I knew the killer took the book. Leaving the cover behind proved it was important in some way. But they wouldn’t have had a chance get rid of the pages. They only got rid of the spine to make it easier to carry around, but what could they do with the pages? Burn them? They couldn’t risk a fire now. Throw them out the window? Any window-opening at this stage of the game would’ve been noticed. And they had no guarantee someone wouldn’t find the pages. They would’ve scattered in the wind almost immediately.”

He raises the stack of papers that sealed the poor woman’s fate. “Simplest explanation. The killer just hid them in their room. As I said. I had to check something. I found them in yours. I skimmed through the pages. Saw the murders. Saw me. You. Almost everyone. And I saw the end. Where you’re in handcuffs, being led away, as you desperately try to justify yourself to me.”

“Shiro—”

He has Shiro’s face, but it can’t be Shiro. Shiro wouldn’t be speaking in this tone. He’d hold her. He’d tell her it’s all okay. There’s something in his voice. It’s all wrong. It’s not like she remembers it. This is some kind of a creature that’s slipped into his skin.

“There’s deviations in here. But if those old men did what they did to… the other version of you, I understand. I understand, Tsujiko. I do.”

No. Wait. No. He understands. He understands…! He’s mad, but it’ll be okay. They’ll get through this. It hurts – it hurts both of them, but there’s still a way!

She falls to her knees. “Oh, Shiro…!”

“But I can’t forgive. What about Kokone? Izuru? The playboy? Framing the man from the plane? Were you going to kill Kaede? How many lives were you ready to ruin? Were you going to lie to me for the rest of your life? Was that fine, hm? To me? Or was I going to be a loose end eventually?”

Oh, God. Oh, no.

“No! No, Shiro, I—I never wanted things to get the way they did! I swear, I—”

She crawls over to him.

As she reaches for his legging, the light in his hand burns out.

She only grasps air.

“S-Shiro…?” she stammers.

“I don’t want anything to do with a murderer.” The cruel voice tells her.

Shiro must already be dead. The dead are just taunting her.

“…What? What? How can you say that? You—No. No! You’d never… say that…! You came all this way… t-to take me away… Please—I’m sorry. I swear I’m sorry. It won’t happen again! I—”

“This isn’t something you just fix.”

The stranger probably killed him. What a crock of shit – couldn’t walk! What are the odds of that? And – a plane crash?!

No.

No, she has to think clearly.

All she has to do is convince him. He doesn’t understand. He thinks he does, but he doesn’t. He needs to her it from her.

In the darkness, she stretches her hand further, slipping, collapsing on the ground entirely. “Please. Please, you promised. Please, you don’t understand. They—You don’t know what they did to me here. I was always in that bedroom. Every year. And they’d—”

“I don’t care.”

Don’t… care?

Don’t care?

“What…?” she asks.

She didn’t hear that. He didn’t say that. It was a trick of the darkness. The ghosts are haunting her. She must’ve already died. This is some kind of purgatory. It’s not real. It’s not him. She’s dead. Or sleeping. And she’ll wake up. And it’ll be over. He didn’t say that. He couldn’t have said that.

“I’m sorry.” he murmurs. “As I said. I can understand. But I can’t forgive.”

How? How can he not care?

He said he loved her.

How?

HOW?!

“What… do you mean…?”

He says nothing.

“You… don’t care…?” her voice cracks.

He says nothing.

“You… don’t care.”

She can hear him breathing.

She slams her fists against the floor.

“WELL WHY THE HELL NOT?! HOW CAN YOU CARE FOR THEIR LIVES, BUT NOT FOR MINE?! If it’d been them or me, what would you have picked? Huh?! Huh, you fucking—HYPOCRITE?!” She wails on the ground. “Don’t give me this high and mighty bullshit! You showed up when it was the most convenient for you. I WAITED FOR YEARS. HOPING. BEGGING. PRAYING.”

“For crying out loud—”

“So, it meant nothing? It was all just horseshit?! Is that it?!”

“Get a grip, Tsujiko. There’s a time for sweet talk. Now isn’t it.”

“SWEET TALK?!”

“Okay. Maybe not just—You know what I’m trying to say.”

“I don’t. Please. Go on.”

“I don’t believe this. You’ve literally murdered people, and, somehow, I’m the bad guy.”

“You were all I ever I had. I was waiting all this time. If you’d just showed up a bit earlier, it might never have come this fa—”

“Oh, come on. You ‘waited’ for me? You ran away. You had no right to expect me to even show up here. It’s been years!”

“Oh? But for some reason you were SO SURE I’d take your hand and run away with you. Why? Because I was a loser? A maid? Because I had nothing else to offer? Who’d want me but you, right? I was the perfect retainer.”

He shakes his head. “Look, how can you ever expect me to accept this? You think we’ll just bury the bodies and walk off into the sunset? Are you insane? After you lied to my face? After all this… this bloodshed? The police are going to find out about this, either way. There’s no way to explain a bunch of missing guests and staff. And I’m not getting arrested. Or running away to start a new life. Not for you. Not for anyone. You’ve ruined enough lives.”

Her knee gets scratched as she pushes herself off the floor. “I can still do it.”

“Tsujiko—”

“You think you’re so high and mighty. But what’s one more, right? What makes YOU worthy to live, and them to die? Why should I discriminate? If I’m such a monster.”

“Tsujiko.”

“ANSWER ME.”

He’s had enough. “I had a certain image of you. For all these years. And I was wrong on what that image was. You’ve changed.”

“Fuck you. I’ll kill you. I swear, I’ll kill you.”

“Tsujiko, don’t. I don’t want to hurt you. But it’ll be justified self-defense when I do.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I think that’s what I’ll tell the cops.” She sniffs. “Thanks for that. I guess.”

Shiro clicks his tongue. “Tsujiko. You can’t actually fight me. It’s over.”

She doesn’t respond.

The journalist clears his throat. “…Tsujiko?”

He can’t see anything.

He shields himself, preparing to be jumped.

Silence.

Not a creak.

Not a sound.

Not even the sound of her breathing.

The matchbox is still in his hand. If the lights it, it might give her opening. If he doesn’t, though—

Shh. Wait.

Could she be moving around him?

Is that her breath on his ear?

Where?

Where is she?

Where?

Was that a creak? Or did he just do that? Did he step on something?

“Tsujiko!” He groans. “Goddammit! Come on!”

Darkness.

“Tsujiko!”

What if she’s crawled away? What if she’s just going to run?

The venom in her voice, though…

Wait. No.

Where is it?

Where’d he put it?

Where’d he put the shotgun?

What about Kaede? Is she going to go after her?

He grits his teeth.

Shaky arms, he pulls out a match.

A flicker lives.

A flicker dies.

And that’s all it takes.


	19. The Shore

I can’t feel my legs. I can’t breathe. I don’t want to breathe. It’s over. It’s all over. I fought. It didn’t work.

I feel the sunlight burning into my back. I can’t turn around. Something in the water’s keeping my limbs down.

I’m sorry, Ikuko.

I’m so sorry.

I—

Huh?

Something grabs me by the collar, flinging my body in the air.

Everything spins.

I hit something.

I can’t taste any more water. I can breathe. But damn – my back hurts now.

I open my eyes. The sun still shines bright. I feel the sand between my toes. I feel my toes. That’s something. I guess. There’s still some water in my mouth. I spit it out. I cough. I blink. Everything’s blurry. The sand burns my skin. Being drenched in water so long, though… it kind of evens it out.

I can’t stop coughing.

“You did your best. For what it’s worth.”

There’s someone standing next to me.

Her blonde hair dances in the wind, shielding me from the sun. I know her. I know her eyes. I know her pain. I know what I’ve done to her. What the other ‘me’ has done.

“You should’ve made sure he died.” I tell her.

Her dress is all tattered. “Hey. I did my best, too, you know.”

She offers me her hand. I’ve lost. We’ve lost. Yet, she’s the one smiling.

Guess she’s got nothing better to do.

I take her hand.

I look around me.

I know this place. This beach.

“Oh, no.” I murmur.

“Where else did you think we could end up, Tohya?” she asks me.

I look up. The pleasant blue twists and muddles, like a disturbed reflection in the water. Slowly, the harsh noon dissipates. The sun becomes the moon. A purple night eats the day, and the blood spreads throughout the sky.

Somewhere in the distance, I hear the seagulls cry.


	20. Awakening

The blizzard is over. It’d ended hours ago.

“Hey, Tohya. Are you there’”

Roaming through the endless white scape is a figure armed only with a flashlight. His walk is lean. His posture straight. His breaths deep, but relaxed.

“I’m sure you’re still somewhere there.” The man says. “I wanted to apologize. About how we settled things. I’m sure I could’ve handled things better. I was… more desperate than I was willing to admit. It’s been decades. You were right. You’ve had this body more than I have. Everyone… has a sense of pride, to some extent, I guess.”

He sees the tail of the plane in the distance. It’s still sinking.

“Titanic’s got nothing on you, buddy.” The man sits down, turning the light off. “Tohya? Hello? They both survived. Broken, bruised, bitten… But they didn’t kill each other. That’s not bad, right? It would’ve been a pickle if the girl actually killed him. She would’ve probably pushed it all on me. What would YOU have done if that happened? Probably not what had to be.”

The man lies down, his hands under his head. “I won’t rub salt in the wound. I apologize.”

The night sky looks empty. No stars. Not even the moon. Not a single cloud, either. No whirlpool for a God to descend through and punish him, then.

“Can I admit something terrible to you, Tohya?”

The wind howls.

“…I really wish. That she loved me, in spite of it all.” He closes his eyes. “Not the boy from six years ago. This. The murderer. I imagined us riding off into the sunset. I imagined she’d stop crying, in spite of knowing she couldn’t. I wished she’d just kiss me. My witch. My beautiful, perfect witch.”

He covers his eyes. “I liked her letters. She had very pretty handwriting.”

His arms plop back down, onto the snow. “Do you think she might’ve survived? We did. Didn’t we, Tohya? Do you think she’s somewhere out there? What would she say if she saw me today?” He laughs. “…Well. It probably wouldn’t end well. Would she even go by ‘she’ today? Aw, who cares. I’d still try. It’s always worth to try. Right, Tohya?”

He pulls himself up.

“Right.”

He stares off into the horizon, spotting distant lights. Must be the rescue ships.

The man wipes the snow off him.

“I’m not good with the quiet moments. I keep thinking about Jessica. And George. But it always starts with Jessica. Tohya? Are you there? I really need you to say something. I’m starting to see her again. Tohya? Hello…?”

He stares blankly into the horizon.

“Hrm. What does gold go for these days, anyway?”

## THE END

_Written by: DWaM (@DWaM22 on Twitter!)_

_Cover art by: selkie (@selkie_lynn on Twitter!)_


End file.
